


You Stay On My Mind

by harrytipotte



Series: The Amazing Deadpool [1]
Category: Deadpool (2016), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jealous Wade Wilson, M/M, References to Depression, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wade is in his 20s, but not cause ya know, flirty friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers, they both bottom lol, this is gonna be a very long one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-30 13:13:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 30
Words: 177,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14497728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrytipotte/pseuds/harrytipotte
Summary: Basically a rewrite of the first Deadpool movie mixed with The Amazing Spider-Man movies. Or what if Wade had changed his plan and Peter had been the one delivering pizza to Jeremy the stalker.





	1. Pineapple and olive

**Author's Note:**

> Huge props to the Deadpool script! I took a LOT of liberties and will be doing it a lot more in the future, but it helped loads!  
> For the Spider-man stuff, I will take some inspirations from all of the Spider-man movies, but I imagine the Andrew Garfield version while writing this (but you do you)! I will not take any inspo from the comics, though. In there I imagine Peter to be 18 and Wade around 26-27.  
> If there are errors it's cause I'm dumb and English isn't my first language! I will try to publish every two weeks.  
> If I don't answer to comments it's because it gives me a lot of anxiety, so much so that if I see even one negative comment I might stop writing, so I'm sorry in advance!

He had only just got off of his bike and Peter could already feel the burning sensation of the scorching hot boxes of pizza in his hands. He had to open with his right foot, on multiple unsuccessful tries, the door to the apartment building. It was a rather shitty looking one, but one Peter was sure he could never afford to live in, even with the alarming amount of pizza deliveries he had to make nearly every night of the week. What was it with New York and pizza? It was almost one in the morning and Peter could feel his phone vibrating in successions in his jeans pocket from the texts his boss kept sending him about his next runs.

There was a strong smell of weed lingering in the lobby as Peter went to the elevator, but it wasn't much better inside of it. He had to squeeze between a woman and her boyfriend fighting over money, which the 18 years old assumed after the two painfully long minutes where he had to try his best to avoid the woman's accusing finger attached to her dangerously animated arm. It had been difficult since the elevator was so small Peter doubted it had been made in mind for three people and two extra-large boxes of pizza. His right side hurt a little from it being so tightly pressed against the dirty elevator's tapestry while he made everything in his power, not to as much as brushed against the heated woman. Peter didn't want to add "pineapple and olive pizza on her feet", which was already a monstrosity in itself, in her list of problems. Peter's day had not been much better. Harry had been so withdrawn lately, what with his father illness, that he didn't need a reason anymore to snap at his best friend. Peter didn't want to blame him, but he had to admit it was getting on his nerves, it wasn't like it was his fault Harry's dad was dying. And Peter already had to deal with Flash, who had given him a painful welcome that morning that had left his jaw still sore.

Peter would have much preferred being in his bed right about now, instead of delivering food in sketchy apartment buildings, but ever since his uncle had been fired, money had been really tight for them. Peter was tempted to take on another job to help out, but his uncle Ben had been very adamant about him not to by saying that he wanted his nephew to concentrate on his last year or high school and that he didn't have to worry. But that worry was helping Peter to resist the incredible urge to leave the three warm boxes at 'Jeremy' doorstep and riding to bed immediately. Speaking of which, 'Jeremy at 7348 Red Ledge Drive' seemed more surprised than the average people being delivered a pizza to at 1am when he opened his door to Peter.

"I didn't order pizza," Jeremy simply said, his _Star Wars_ shirt sprinkled with crumbs of chips and smelling of weed ten times stronger than the lobby ever could.

"Well," Peter's brain was screaming at him to just toss the large boxes into the other young man's arms, but instead he searched with one of his hand for the receipt stuck between the two boxes. "Aren't you Jeremy? For 7348 Red Ledge Drive?"

"Yes, but I'm telling you I didn't order anything!"

"But this is 7348 Red Ledge Drive, right?"

"Will it help if I slow down? I didn’t. Order. The pizza."

Okay, now Peter only wanted to punch the guy and eat all of the food himself, pineapple and olive be damned.

"Then who..."

Before Peter could finish his question, both men turned at the sound of a toilet flushing in another room of the apartment.

"I did."

A peculiar looking man was coming out of the bathroom behind Jeremy, who, by the look on his face, didn't know the guy at all. As to Peter, the strangest thing about this bathroom user stranger would have probably been his coat or his Bea Arthur shirt. Maybe that was the reason why Peter just decided to stand there with sweat running from his back and burned hands, but who knows, he certainly didn't. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that happened to him on the job and Peter kind of wanted to see how this would play out. He could only stare alongside Jeremy at the surprisingly handsome man wiping his hand on a towel in the middle of the living room of the young stoner's apartment.

"Pineapple and olive?" the man asked Peter, who could only nod at the boyish man, seeing as not a single sound would come out of his mouth. "Sweet and salty."

"Who the fuck are you? What the fuck are you doing here?"

Jeremy's voice sounded more like a strangle screech toward the end as he and Peter both saw the strange man in the living room pulling out an impressive looking pistol from his dark red coat and starting nonchalantly pointing it at Jeremy. While Peter could feel his face going as pale as the poor dude struggling to breathe in front of him, he was surprised to find the man still looking fairly friendly to him.

"Burnt crust?" the man asked Peter, who felt his composure slightly failing him.

"Um, I..." Peter opened the upper box and winced. "It's probably still good..."

"Relax, dude, that’s how I like it! Once you go black, you never go back!" the guy answered with a huge grin as he holstered his pistol.

Peter could only watch as the good-looking man took the steps toward him as he pushed aside Jeremy to take a slice out of the box Peter had already opened. Which he proceeded, to Peter's shock, to close with a hunting knife while making uncomfortably long eyes contact with him, revealing the tattoos on his forearms in the process. He was taller than him and Peter could only look up at the guy's hazel eyes as he appeared to be roaming them all over him.

"This is about the hack, right? It wasn't just me, okay!" Peter was almost surprised when he heard Jeremy's voice over the man's muscular shoulder. "I told Chris... Listen, take whatever you want!"

Still looking right at Peter, the armed man simply swallowed his mouthful of cheese and olives, while Jeremy had started to fumble with his wallet to hand him the bills inside. Finally looking away, the man, in one smooth move, took the entire wallet instead, which lead to Peter finally letting out the breath he had been holding for what felt like twenty minutes.

"Thanks!"

"Uh," Peter scrapped his throat as he tried to not feel like shit for asking, "can I have a huge tip?"

"Pay the man!" Wade landed a twenty dollar bills off of Jeremy's wallet into the front pocket of Peter's shirt like someone would do with a stripper's underwear. "Peter, is it?"

Peter's face felt dangerously warm for the two seconds where he didn't remember the cheap tape where his name had been written on his shirt. "Yeah..?"

"Wade Wilson. You got something after this?"

"What?" Peter and Jeremy let out at the same time, both of their voices sounding incredibly high, especially at this hour in the morning.

"Yeah, you're right," Peter wasn't sure if the man, Wade, was talking to him or to himself. "Job comes first!"

Jeremy's eyes widened as Wade pulled him by the back of his dirty shirt. It was also at that moment Peter realized how far away the guy had got from him and the man. And seeing as his cell phone was now laying on the dirty carpet in front of him, it was pretty clear what the dude had been trying to do while Peter was being compromised by the weirdly sexual sight of a man with a knife and a mouth full of olives and cheese. Peter was concerned with himself by the fact that he found 'Wade Wilson' if that was even his real name, a lot more attractive than he initially thought after he had first seen him come out of the bathroom. Which was concerning, since the guy was currently poking 'Jeremy at 7348 Red Ledge Drive' on the forehead with his pistol. Now, Peter was ready to admit this was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him on the job.

"Jeremy Cooper?" the 20 years old sheepishly nodded as Wade took a quick sniff of him. "You need to seriously ease up the weed, dude."

Jeremy only response was a howl that sounded a whole lot more like a chair being dragged across the floor than human. It kind of made Peter want to put the twenty dollar bill he was given on a furniture nearby.

"Oh, and I'm keeping the wallet, by the way. You kind of gave it to me..." Wade said, shrugging in a way that made his gun directed a tiny bit too much toward Peter's general direction if Peter had a say in it.

"Can I at least get my business cards ba..."

Jeremy was shut up by Wade pointing his gun at him again, sending him almost falling over the smelly sofa behind him.

"I will shoot your fucking cat!"

"NO!"

"Whoa, dude, calm down, I'm not gonna touch your cat. How messed up do you think I am?"

The expression on Jeremy's face could have almost made Peter laugh if he was not about to watch the guy's face being blown off. And possibly his own as well, considering how much of that Wade Wilson's unpredictable tendencies Peter had been able to witness in the short amount of time since the man had made his grand entrance in Jeremy's living room. The pause screen of some video games, that Jeremy had most likely been playing before Peter had apparently and unknowingly ruined his life by showing up to his door, was making the most annoying joyful sound in the background.

"Now, you by chance know a Meghan Orlovsky? Getting that right? Orlovsky? Orloskvy?  Do you?" Peter could barely see Jeremy's small little nod from behind the broad shoulders of the armed man. "Good. ‘Cause she knows you."

Peter noticed the manifest change in the man's tone, but it quickly changed when he turned his head toward him to say, "and what situation isn’t improved by pizza, eh?"

It took Peter ten full seconds before he realized what Wade's weird hand gesture toward him meant, and ultimately slapped a slice of pizza that, knowing his chance, was the flabbiest of the bunch, on the guy's manly hand.

"Juicy."

" _If I'm magically not getting fired after this, I'm quitting,_ " was the only thing Peter could think as he felt the buzz of his phone against his tight and as he watched a mercenary licking pizza off his hand while trying to threaten someone with a gun.

"Jeremy, I belong to a group of guys who take a dime to beat a fella down." Peter could hear Wade's loud munches from where he was trying to silently put down the pizza boxes on the dirty carpet. "Little Meghan’s not made of money, but lucky her, I’ve got a soft spot."

When Wade opened and closed his hand again in a "gimme" gesture toward Peter, the latter didn't waste a second before slapping another slice into the man's stretched hand. He had made sure it was not as soggy as the first one, but it didn't matter since it ended up on the floor at Jeremy's feet, anyway, after it being nearly handed to him before being let go too soon.

_Will I be considered an accomplice, now?_

"B-but I'm..." muttered Jeremy.

_Okay, I don't care how this turn out I'm getting out of here._

"A stalker. Threats hurt, Jer. Though not nearly as bad as serrated steel. You know that's not the way to go"

Wade's head turned slightly around to give Peter a quick wink, which got ultimately stuck at the closing part of the process when he saw that Peter had successfully reached the door handle with his right hand and gently started turning it.

"Wait! Don't you see I'm trying to impress, right now?" Peter saw the annoyingly handsome mercenary letting an overly dramatic sigh, before wiping his cheesy hand on the front of Jeremy's shirt. "I will make this quick, then."

Before Peter could register what the mercenary had just said, Jeremy was being pinned against the wall with a knife against his throat.

"So keep away from Meghan. We cool?"

"Y-yeah."

At this point, the twenty or so years old was shaking so much in his socks that the only thing keeping him up was Wade's force on him. There was a legitimate second where Peter thought he was about to witness a man getting his throat cut open when he saw the tiniest bit of movement from Wade's armed hand. Instead, he saw him skilfully twirling his knife away from the young guy's throat, snipping it on his finger and jamming it back into in its place inside of his red coat. All the while Jeremy was left on his ass, his back against the white wall.

"Then we're done."

"W-we are?" Jeremy asked the mercenary from his not so graceful place on the floor, that, according to Peter, he wasn't ready to leave anytime soon.

"Soft spot, remember? But even look in her general direction again? You’ll learn in the worst of ways," Wade nonchalantly said, turning away from the pathetic man on the ground.

Peter only just realized he was still in the same position at the front door of the apartment when he had tried to run off. He was glad there had been no murder, but he wasn't so sure about himself when he would get back to the pizza shop. He wouldn't be surprised if his boss had already written him off. The whole ordeal had lasted for a little more than half an hour, given the Homer Simpson clock on the stoner's wall.

"I've got some hard spots too," Wade paused to take the pizza boxes into his arms. "That came out wrong. Or did it?"

He was winking at Peter again, this time without interruption, and pushed one of the two boxes to the younger man as he took a piece out of his still in his arms. Peter couldn't say if it looked more odd than attractive to him, which the last one appeared to be the goal. It was almost frightening to Peter how much duality was present into that man. One second Peter could be jumping out of his feet at his actions, and the next, bewildered by his childish, and almost endearing, behaviour. He looked young and joyful, but there was just enough of an edge to it that made Peter want to swoon like some kind of twelve years old. Which Peter was more than determined to not let that happen.

As it seemed the man was about to go off, Peter didn't really know what to do with himself. Was he supposed to wait for the mercenary to be gone to, himself, finally leave that god-awful apartment? He knew he should have gone a long time ago, probably when the man had first made the presence of his gun known, or even when he first saw Jeremy's deeply confused face at the sight of him, but he didn't, in fear of being shot in the back. Wasn't he a witness? Why had the guy wanted to keep him inside? If he had in fact witnessed 'Jeremy at 7348 Red Ledge Drive' being killed, Peter would have been certain the man had simply been planning to kill him, as well. While he did look and sounded quite pleasant, Peter wouldn't doubt the fact that he could kill a man if he wanted to. But what the mercenary said to him next should have surprised Peter way less than it did.

"So, _did you_ have anything planned after this?"


	2. A Case of Light Stalking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Wade waited at Peter’s workplace instead of going to Weasel’s bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pulled a muscle in my butt writing this, so enjoy!  
> Also, I feel like the whole fic is going to be a lot of Peter POV since I found it more interesting to rewrite the Deadpool movie from a character that wasn't in it (and since Peter is literally the best).

The yelling he got from his boss was worse while being slightly better than Peter had expected. He was never a good employee, but how could you when you work in New York at night and every night is met with threats and mercenaries. Okay, maybe not every night, but Peter had still met his fair share of dealers and cocaine addicts during the few months since he had first taken on the job. If his aunt ever heard about any of this, Peter had some suspicion he would never be left out of the house again.

It wasn't like Peter could've made up some excuse to his overreacting boss since he was screaming so much and pushing him out of the pizza place, but again, he couldn't possibly explain why he had truly disappeared for almost an hour. It would've sounded more like a story he had invented than the actual excuses he had planned in his head after leaving the mercenary outside of Jeremy's apartment building. It felt kind of weird that Peter had some regrets that he would never see the man again. After an awkward and awfully quiet moment, from his part, in the elevator, Peter had simply left the pizza box Wade had pushed in his arms and had gotten on his bike before screaming in the man's general direction that he was late. Which, now that he thought about it, seemed a bit dangerous to disrespect a mercenary, but again, Peter was right, he was very late. So much so, concerning his _ex_ -boss, that Peter had no longer a job. So, screw the advances of a very handsome possible killer, even though he kind of regretted it now. Just a bit. But not enough to actively search for that Wade Wilson guy.

Anyway, he wouldn’t have to, since the guy was casually leaning against the brick wall of the alley behind the pizza place where the employee would exit when Peter pitifully made his way there. The 18 years old wouldn't lie that he had assumed for a good second that he was about to get murdered right there and then. Not that the man was showing the weapons Peter knew he had on him, but it was still pretty freaky to bump in a dark alley into the very man he saw not so long ago threatening a dude in his own apartment.

"Motherhugger!" Peter exclaimed as he almost fell over Wade's feet.

The man simply started laughing. It was a hearty laugh, not the maniacal cackle Peter would have expected from a trained killer. But again, the man wasn’t exactly what anyone would think of what a mercenary would look like. He had his eyes closed and a hand on his belly from the pure amusement he got from Peter's weird swear of terror. Peter felt his face go embarrassingly red.

“Always so PG…”

"Didn't you say stalking was bad?"

“Well, you got me,” Peter couldn’t say for sure seeing that it was so dark, but he thought he saw the man get a bit of a defensive expression on his face. “But I knew where I ordered the pizza!”

Peter looked around the taller man, but the two pizza boxes he had delivered to him earlier through that poor Jeremy’s apartment were nowhere to be seen. There were only the usual dumpsters and repulsively full garbage cans surrounding them. Peter had nightmares about them, sometimes.

“You finished it all?”

“I gave the rest to some teenagers.”

“Oh,” it made Peter think about the actual reason Wade had been threatening Jeremy in the first place, and it sort of made him feel a lot less bad about the guy. ”How’s Meghan?”

“She’s fine. Stalker-free!”

“Can’t say the same for me…”

Peter didn’t know what made him this bold all of a sudden seeing as he was pretty much convinced it hadn’t appeared that way back at Jeremy’s home. Maybe it had to do with the dreading fact that it was reaching 3 am and he had school in the morning. Or perhaps he was happily trying to get a reaction from an attractive older dude that seemed to be fairly interested in him, but he would firmly deny that fact. He had never in his life had a guy showing any interest in him whatsoever. The boys at his school were either throwing him around in lockers or asking for his notes. Not that he had had more chance with girls before, either. So, all of this felt a lot more unusual than it already was.

“Oi! You’re hurting my feelings! I was just passing by, that’s all. And I remembered that you didn’t answer my question, so…”

Peter rolled his eyes as he put his hands in the pocket of his jacket. It was reaching winter and he suddenly envied Wade’s taste in jackets. Even though he wouldn’t want to be seen in a million years in it, he was getting jealous of the fur around the man’s neck that looked to be everywhere inside the coat. Wade followed his eyes on his own coat to divert them curiously on Peter’s chest.

“Oh, what happened? You’re no longer Peter?” Wade jokingly asked him, pointing at the white residues on Peter’s shirt where his cheap identification badge once was.

Peter couldn’t hide the annoyance from his voice, even though he was actively adverting the older man’s eyes, “I got fired.”

“Yea, I figured that much. It was because of me?”

Peter was looking intently at the ground where his shoes were gently sawing back and forth, “I guess, yea…”

“Okay, that looks bad now, but I promise I hadn’t planned this,” Wade stopped to lean against the wall beside Peter with a sly smile on his face, which kind of negated what he had just said. “But lemme make it up to ya.”

“You’re a mercenary, right?”

“And you’re legal, right?”

Met only with Peter’s deadpanned stare, Wade sighed before explaining, “It pays well, and to be honest, it’s nice putting stinky guys back in their place. Not that I’m much better, but…”

Wade stopped as if he was waiting to see Peter backing away from him, to escape like he had tried to in the apartment earlier. But Peter, again, stayed where he was, God knows why. It didn’t sound like Wade was telling every sordid detail, anyhow, and he was plenty friendly for Peter to overlook it, for now at least.

“That was kind of nice what you did for Meghan, I guess,” Peter interjected. He had this odd pulsion of reassuring the man for his actions, even though Peter himself didn’t really approve of them.

“Well, thanks. You don’t seem like the kind of guy who likes that sort of thing.”

“No. But I do appreciate a good deed when I see one.”

“Jeremy isn’t a bad kid. Just a bit light stalking,” Wade explained. Yet he sounded a bit sheepish when he said next, “And apparently, I’m falling back in his footstep.”

There was a weird silence between them where only the police cars passing by from some other street could be heard. Peter didn’t really know what to say next. He didn’t at all, but it looked like Wade didn’t know either, as when Peter looked up to see the other man’s face, it was like he was lost for word to explain himself. It was quite an odd sight, as, since meeting the man, Peter couldn’t remember one moment where he didn’t take the opportunity to open his mouth.

“I always thought men with a cut in their eyebrow were some kind of criminal, guess I was right,” Peter finally said, breaking the sudden quietness after the both of them couldn’t hear the sirens going off in the distance anymore.

For two seconds, Peter thought he had gone a bit too far, or something, but the man simply chuckled and said, between some loud snorts, “I’m kind of happy now that I passed going to the bar to wait with the dumpsters.”

“We don’t meet in great places, I have to admit.”

“Wait ‘till we get to this arcade I walked by as I was trying to find this place.” Wade brought out Jeremy’s wallet from one of his many coat pockets, swaying it under Peter’s nose for way too long before Peter had to slap it off his hand. “My treat.”

“Don’t get this wrong,” Peter started to say as he watched Wade picking up the wallet from the dirty pavement, “your various mating calls back at Jeremy’s place did work, but I do have school at 8 am. So basically in, like, five hours.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to jail,” was apparently all Wade had gotten from Peter’s pretty fair argument.

“I’m 18.”

“Wow.” Wade still appeared fairly surprised, as if being 18 was the farthest thing someone could ever be in life. “What’s that like?”

“Not great.”

“The only thing I remember about being 18 is the absurd amount of stamina. You’ve tested yours, yet?”

“Shut up.” Peter’s eyes rolled up so high up he couldn’t see Wade’s smug face anymore, but he couldn’t prevent the snort that suddenly came out from whatever hole from his face.

“So, you’re like, still living with your old folks?”

“You’re not?” Peter attempted to mock the awfully smug man. He wouldn’t let himself be the only source of entertainment. “But no, they’re kind of… dead. I live with my aunt and uncle.”

“Dead parents! So cute, we already have something in common!”

“Okay, let’s just go,” Peter abruptly said, surprising himself, and Wade too, judging by his eyebrows now reaching so high on his forehead that it was almost reaching his light brown hair. “It smells kinda bad here.”

“Yea, you’re right. That’s so un-gentleman of me.”

Peter was tempted to leave his old bike with the garbage where it really belonged. He wasn’t looking forward to another uncomfortable ride in the metro with his muddy bicycle tarnishing every surface he would unfortunately touch. He had hoped Wade wouldn’t comment on it, but again, Peter wasn’t that lucky. He had to literally take it off of the older man’s hands as he was offering him to carry it wherever Wade had planned for them to go. Which, an arcade was unexpectedly sweet if you asked Peter. Maybe it would keep him awake enough for him to not fall asleep on the man.

“There really are arcades that are opened all night?” he asked Wade as they were walking, _bike free_ , out on the surprisingly busy sidewalk.

“We’re in New York city, Petey boy. There’s probably dentist places opened, right now.”

“I think I was 5 the last time I went to an arcade,” Peter reminiscent the few times his uncle would buy him an ice cream and took him to the kid arcade next door to the ice cream shop. He had sadly taken notice not so long ago that it had been closed and replaced by a drug store. “My uncle would only let me play with the pinball machines after I got traumatized by the shooting game where you had to play a hunter in Africa. I think shooting that zebra was too much for 5 years old me.”

“Do you even try to be cute or it just comes naturally to you? When _I_ do I look like a fucking perv.”

“I know, right,” Peter retorted, faking pulling back the long hair he didn’t have behind his shoulder. “Especially if you’re into dark circles.”

“They’re great!”

“I think I was 5 the last time I went to an arcade,” Peter reminiscent the few times his uncle would buy him an ice cream and took him to the kid arcade next door to the ice cream shop. He had sadly taken notice not so long ago that it had been closed and replaced by a drug store. “My uncle would only let me play with the pinball machines after I got traumatized by the shooting game where you had to play a hunter in the savanna. I think shooting that zebra was too much for 5 years old me.”

“Do you even try to be cute or it just comes naturally to you? When _I_ do I look like a fucking perv.”

“I know, right,” Peter retorted, faking pulling back the long hair he didn’t have behind his shoulder. “Especially if you’re into dark circles.”

“They’re great!”

It was only when Wade paid, with Jeremy’s money, for an exaggerated amount of arcade tokens, that Peter truly realized what he was doing. This man had very plainly stated that his job was against the law, and he was clearly older than him, so why was Peter enjoying the guy’s company so much? It wasn’t like Peter had planned to have sex with him afterward, anyway, but since when mercenaries were his type? He thought that was a valid question. One that he would never bring up to anyone, not even Harry and Gwen. _Especially_ Harry and Gwen.

“You’re sure you never went here before?” Peter asked Wade as he followed him the best he could to the skeeball machines where the man had taken a quick beeline to.

The place was bright and filled with fully grown adults like them, but possibly drunk. Peter could feel his eyes burning with fatigue and the flashing lights around the arcade didn’t help in the slightest. The pop song blasting out of the speakers mixed with the obnoxious noises of the numerous games was like a cold shower on Peter’s tired brain, however, and really, he was grateful for that.

“You can’t blame me for being too excited! It’s my favorite game!” Wade defended himself as he reached down to grab two balls before handing one to his bewildered date.

“Putting balls into holes. Make a lot of sense.”

“The way to my heart!” Wade retorted as he threw his first ball which landed perfectly into the highest scored cup.

The muscles of his arms were fully visible now that he had taken off his ugly coat and dumped it on the machine next to theirs. His Bea Arthur tank top didn’t leave much to the imagination, and that much was apparent when Peter’s turn came up and he threw so far off that his ball ended up hitting Wade’s machine instead of his. Not that he would have done much better even if the muscular man was covered from head to toe with a trash bag.

“You’re so bad at this,” Wade laughed at him.

“Thanks’ I know. There’s a reason I’m failing gym class.”

“No doubt!”

“Don't tell me ‘cause it hurts!” Peter sang in an exceptionally bad impression of Gwen Stefani that had Wade bursting out laughing as his next ball ended up nowhere near one of the holes.

“Look what you made me do!” Wade cried out at Peter, who was left cackling at the genuine anguish on the man’s face.

“That’s what you get for laughing at my failures!” Peter replied back.

“It’s not my fault you’re already used to losing tragically,” the taller man retorted, leaning on the ramp with his right arm as his whole body was slowly tilting toward Peter’s.

“You’re not really convincing me, yet, though.”

Wade smiled slyly close to Peter’s face before turning away, a grin still very much present on his face. Peter saw him take his damn time to position himself for his next launch, rearing up with his legs slightly apart. It paid off given that his ball landed straight into the 50,000 cup, the same as his first try. Peter wasn’t paying attention to the game, but he sure guessed what had happened when he saw Wade smugly offering him his next ball.

“Okay, I guess,” Peter said, taken the ball as he tried to keep a serious expression. He just knew he was going to lose, but he wouldn’t give Wade that satisfaction.

“Do you need a hand or something? I’m here to provide any hand you want.”

“Or you can just shut up.”

Peter did lose that match, as well of most of the racing games he and Wade had tested out, but he did win that incredibly tedious and long match of Wade and him trying to basically break the only two pinball games the arcade had. They practically had to fight over who would get to play with the Scooby-Doo themed one, but Peter suspected Wade of giving that one to him seeing as he wasn’t that mad that he was left with the Elvis themed one.

“It’s not as boring as I remembered,” Peter stated as him and Wade were each drinking their banana flavored milkshake, but it honestly tasted more like someone had mashed those disgusting banana flavored candies into a goblet with vanilla ice cream. But then again Peter had not expected anything less from an arcade that was only opened at night and where one of the prices were New York memorabilia shots that had clearly been used before.

“What, pinball? Of course not!” Wade replied, before taking a huge sip out of his Styrofoam cup and putting his free arm around Peter’s shoulders.

According to the clock behind the guy that was exchanging the arcade coupons, it was reaching half four in the morning. Peter had texted his uncle hours ago to let him know that he was working late, but his uncle did have a point when he reminded him that it was a school night, which Peter had kind of forget between some of those intense matches between him and Wade and flashy machines. The man’s face was practically beaming with joy and really, Peter didn’t want to end the night just yet, but he really had to if he wanted to look alive at school later that day.

“Hey, I think I should go soon…”

“Oh yeah, right…”

Wade also looked at the clock and gave Peter an understanding smile before leading them closer to the arcade prize counter. He emptied out his pockets full of the pink tickets he had acquired in the last hour on top of the counter. Peter simply laid out his beside Wade’s, not at all frustrated by the difference in size of their pile.

“The limited edition Voltron: Defender of the Universe ring, por favor,” Wade requested to the weary-looking dude behind the counter, who merely looked at the coupons layered in front of him and then dead into Wade’s eyes.

“You’re roughly three hundred thousand tickets short. It’s nickel-silver-plated.”

Peter chuckled silently at the older man’s disappointed pout at being rejected his collectible ring. Wade sounded deeply saddened when he asked for the tire-grade rubber Voltron keychain, instead.

“I’ll just take the jelly ruler,” Peter requested in turn.

“The pink or the green one?”

“The pink one, of course.”

“As if that’s even a question,” Peter heard Wade whisper just for him, which made him giggle into his shirt’s collar.

The guy handed him his prize after Wade’s, and while it couldn’t even measure up to twenty centimeters, Peter could already see himself using it even if it was only to slap his friends during some boring class. “You are now the sworn protector of the gentle people of the planet Arus... And you... you can... measure stuff...” the guy said as he bowed awkwardly toward them.

“Hey Peter, wanna measure my stuff?”

Peter just had to slap Wade’s arm with his new ruler for emphasis before replying, “not into freaky stuff on the first date, sorry dude.”

They left the arcade, with their prizes, not long after. The sun was already setting behind the skyscrapers and it had already blinded Peter a couple of times as they made their way to the closest metro station. The 18 years old had already accepted the fact that he would not get any sleep before his English class, but he couldn’t help but think they had reached the station way too soon for his liking. But then again, he could clearly perceive the multiple of people, mostly with at the very least on coffee in their hand, already starting the day around them. The two men stopped not too far from stairs where some people were going down to the subway.

“That was great, man,” Peter sleepily said, as he lightly punched Wade’s shoulder with his right fist, which he regretted the moment he looked up and saw the taller man’s deeply amused face.

_That was great, man? Really?_

“Yeah, it was.”

“You know, next time you don’t need to stalk me, just use my number,” Peter said, asking with his hand for Wade’s phone, which he gave him without missing a beat.

Peter had to wonder how the man could look as perfect as he was after a sleepless night out. He looked a bit scruffy, the little bit of beard on his jaws and his short ruffled hair catching the uncomfortably bright morning sunlight were enough for Peter’s breath to catch for the thousand time that night. Yet he didn’t appear to be as worn-out as Peter, or the slightest of sleepy for that matter, and Peter was almost positive the older man would have kept the night going for a couple more hours if he could. His eyes were as bright and expressive as they were earlier that night and it somewhat made Peter very aware of his own, he had to guess, dubious appearance.

“We should do karaoke, next time! I…”

Wade was still talking when Peter, both of his hands into the pocket of his overworn vest and standing on the tip of his toes, leaned into the other man’s face. He caught mostly Wade’s upper lip with his and it took some seconds before he felt it stop moving from his lost sentence, but Peter quickly became not the only one responding to the kiss anymore. He wished he could see the man’s expression, but he was too concentrated on the feeling of the surprisingly gentle touch of Wade’s lips against his to even dare move a muscle, even less open his eyes. He felt hands grabbing the front of his vest and tightening while both of their mouths were opening at the same time to taste the other better. All of this tasted a lot of pizza and artificial banana, yet it was probably the nicest thing Peter had ever felt. It ended way too soon, in his opinion, as did the whole night, when they both had to stopped to catch their breath.

“Well good night, baby boy!” Wade snickered while he waved goodbye to the younger man. “Have a good day, I mean!”

“You too.”

It was like stepping out of a lengthy odd dream once Peter turned around and finally left the mercenary after hours of being surrounded by his bigger than nature presence.


	3. Sugar baby Parker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are entering what I like to call ‘the sex montage replacement’ parts.  
> Part. 1: Peter the teen getting some of that sweet trouble at school.

Peter woke up with a start by nails scraping roughly at the back of his neck. By the burning feeling of it, Peter quickly guessed it was Gwen, yet he couldn’t possibly remember where he was or what he had been doing before falling asleep. His left cheek felt sticky with, what he immediately assumed, was drying saliva, which his right hand was covered up with. He had barely got the chance, earlier, to change shirt after walking inside his house like a zombie to his freshly out of bed aunt in the kitchen already handing him a cup of coffee and a concerned look. The 18 years old had subsequently tried to catch up the standard amount of sleep he had missed on the bus to school, but it was quite unsuccessful, to say the least. Twenty minutes couldn’t have possibly helped him in any way to regain last night’s lost hours. It never quite did.

He had successfully attended his first class like normal. Which was especially surprising given that even on a good day, Peter was not a stranger to dozing off throughout English lectures. It was only when Peter sat down at his desk in advanced science class that the fatigue came crushing back to him in a huge wave. Gwen had sat next to him like usual, but Peter couldn’t remember her ever taking her place behind her desk. Although, judging by the pain of the skin of his neck, she had taken upon herself to wake him up before the end of the class most likely more than once. Peter, his arms crossed on his desk and his head still hanging low, looked over to his left only to see the indignant eyes of his friend. She knew how much Peter usually enjoyed science class, so she kind of had a justifiable reason to look unsettled at the sight of him drooling all over his desk. Also, the fact that he hadn’t raised his hand not even once must have been quite concerning. Perhaps that was the reason why their teacher didn’t bother him at all for the hour and a half where he was obviously snoozing in front of her face, as she wasn’t known to do so. If there was one class Peter didn’t want to miss, that was usually it. However, it was Friday, which meant Peter was already picturing himself sleeping all of Saturday and Sunday away, and he honestly couldn’t wait. The thought of skipping his last two classes of the day was unabashedly crossing his mind as Peter looked up in front of him only to see the much-filled blackboard behind his science teacher.

Peter tried his best to follow the rest of the period, but then again it was a lost cause. His short nap on the bus and the one he had only just woke up from hadn’t quite reached the amount of sleep Peter really needed. Despite that, he wasn’t so sure he would have gotten much sleep, anyway, even if last night adventure wouldn’t have occurred. His uncle was right in saying it wasn’t good for him to spend his nights delivering pizza in sketchy neighborhoods. Maybe getting fired had been a good thing, after all. Peter could only hope his uncle would get a new job soon, or that he would get a new one himself. One that hopefully didn’t involve riding around New York all night and scary mercenaries. Well, Peter had only ever encountered one, for all he knew, and he had been far from being the bloodcurdling image of a killer the 18 years old had imagined and seen in movies. He wasn’t really sure how he had gotten home that morning, but Peter sure did remember the night he had spent with Wade just playing games and laughing at whatever nonsense that would come out of the guy’s mouth.

Peter shouldn’t have been this much disappointed when he hadn’t received any signs from the man since leaving him in front of the metro station after they had exchanged numbers. But then again, it wasn’t even noon yet. He couldn’t help but never stop thinking, during the very few seconds of clarity he was given just sitting there, about the very agreeable goodbye he had given the man. What on earth had pushed him to do that? Could he even put it on exhaustion? Peter had never kissed an older guy at the end of a first date, before, if that was ever. Much less with only six pitiful hours of sleep in a week, which happened an awful lot.

The fact that he hadn’t listened to a single word his teacher had said in the last hour and a half wasn’t enough to stop Peter from taking his cellphone out of his jeans pocket to write a quick text to Wade. He could feel Gwen’s dumbfounded eyes on him as he was sending it.

(11:45) **_I’m kinda glad I won’t have to deliver pizza to stoners anymore_**

His left foot was impatiently tapping the classroom’s floor while the entire right side of Peter’s face was resting in his hand. Would Wade even reply? The guy probably had more dates and delivery boys all over him than he could ask for, what with his handsome face and muscular build and all. Everything about him seemed attractive if that was even possible. Even the man’s insolence and unpredictable attitude made him just the more appealing in Peter’s eyes, for some odd and unknown reason. The more he would think about it the more it _almost_ gave Peter the urge to write their names inside a heart on his notebook like he could painfully recall doing it for his previous crushes. He was over that, though, of course. Sending him a text seemed like enough.

_More like desperate enough._

Lunch was only fifteen minutes away, he could survive until then. No matter how severely the burning irritation in his eyes was nagging him to close them. If only Wade would answer, at least he would have a genuine reason to stay awake, the sound of pens running frantically on papers around the room in sync with the teacher’s fast speech was starting to annoy him. Thankfully, Peter didn’t have to wait for long before his phone started vibrating in two short successions on his desk.

(11:58) **Are you thanking me right now because I accept it**

(11:59) **_I think I’ll need a sugar daddy now_**

Peter had to push every impulse he had in him not to laugh out loud as his own answer, but a small snort still got his way out. Thankfully the bell signaling lunchtime resonated around the classroom loud enough for everyone to ignore him, yet he didn’t budge straightaway out of his seat like the others.

(12:01) **Do you take applications?**

Before Peter could reply back, a solitary tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his screen. Gwen was simply looking down at him, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes filled with curiosity.

“What are you doing? You know the class is over, right?” she questioned Peter, who could only look up at the somewhat puzzled look on her face at his lack of response. “Oh yeah, you wouldn’t know since you slept through all of it.”

All Peter could muster as an answer was a weak shrug before getting up from the uncomfortable plastic school chair, at last. Gwen was now lightly shaking her head disapprovingly in a manner he was very much used to see.

“What happened, you had to work super late again?”

“No…”

Everybody else had already left the room before them, except for their teacher who he and Gwen nodded at as they went out of the door. Peter walked behind Gwen down the hall as he finished up writing his reply to Wade, careful not to pump into anyone as he tried to keep the girl’s heel in his immediate eyesight.

“I guess you want my notes?” Gwen asked him over her shoulder.

“Yeah… thanks,” Peter answered her without looking up from his phone screen.

(12:05) **_I will need an interview with you first, I’ve received a lot of applications already_**

“Texting your boyfriend, Parker?”

Peter’s whole body tensed as he heard Flash’s voice behind him echoing loud on the lockers around them. If high school had taught him anything in the last four years, it was that Peter couldn’t live one day without the guy picking something to taunt him about. Yesterday morning, Peter had apparently been too eager picking up his books from his locker, or something, given the punch to his jaw he had been given as a hello. He was getting so used to it he wasn’t sure how to react anymore.

Peter saw Gwen turn around in front of him with an aggravating sigh. Clearly, he was not the only one done with it. He felt his phone vibrating in his hand as he turned around as well to face a tall Flash with an annoyingly large smile on his face. Five seconds passed without Peter saying anything, and apparently, that was way too many for the other teenager.

“You’re deaf, now, Parker?”

Flash decided to emphasize his words by harshly shoving Peter’s shoulder with his own, passing by him and Gwen, who looked at the taller guy with the most sarcastic smile Peter had ever seen from her yet. While Peter’s shoulder was hurting a bit from the push, as any more muscular shoulder making violent contact against yours would grant, his cellphone had slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a sound so concerning Peter could see many people by their locker wincing.

“Crap…”

He had to look at a freshly cracked screen to read Wade’s short text he had received. It wasn’t that bad, but it was cracked enough that Peter was tempted to sue Flash for breaking his property and more importantly for emotional distress. Gwen would certainly do everything in her power to make that happen, not to mention his aunt.

(12:06) **Is that so**

“Fuck him,” he heard Gwen heatedly whisper beside him as she was looking over Peter’s shoulder at the broken phone screen.

It was too late for Peter to hide it, and the name on it at the same time, from his friend, who was already looking at Peter with questions in her eyes as he prompted them to resume their stride to their lockers.

“Who’s Wade?” Gwen asked nonchalantly to Peter. Well, as naturally as she could without showing the actual level of curiosity behind her question, which was quite the fail.

They had reached their lockers, which Peter took as an opportunity to focus on his combination instead of going up with an actual answer to his friend. But then again, they were done much too quickly with individually picking up their lunch for Peter’s taste and he was soon left with Gwen’s snooping, once more.

“Who’s Wade, uh?” Gwen asked him again, this time more eagerly than she had probably intended.

Peter, again, decided it was better for him not to answer, and instead took advantage of them both spotting their friend Harry sitting alone at a small circular table at the far end of the cafeteria to divert the girl’s attention yet again.

“Peter…” Gwen started to say anyway in an aggravated sigh before Peter could interrupt her.

“Nobody!” he angrily whispered toward her as he nothing but crashed on a seat beside Harry at the table.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked as he looked up from his phone to his two friends. There was no trace of food in front of him and while his clothes were posh and immaculate, his face was pale behind his sullen expression and his eyes made him look maybe even more tired than Peter. Despite that, he appeared relatively interested in the reason why his friends were acting so weirdly.

“Peter’s being weird, today,” Gwen simply explained, rummaging through her lunch box for something to eat as Peter’s face was warming up at an alarming rate.

“So, there’s nothing, then.” Harry offered Peter a toothless smile, his scrawny face weirdly stretched in that momentary position, but his friend could tell it was genuine.

“No, I mean, he won’t say who’s the guy he’s been texting!”

“It’s no one!”

Peter supposed he should at least try to stop acting like a teenager if he really wanted to date an older guy. Especially one that had such an unusual and different lifestyle from him.

_Who am I kidding? Who’s to say he even want to date me? Get your head out of your ass, Parker._

“You’re seeing someone and you won’t tell us, Pete?” Harry playfully asked, exchanging a knowing look with Gwen over the table. It annoyed Peter’s exhausted nerves to no end.

“It’s just… Something really weird happened last night. Really, _really_ weird.”

“We told you not to take acid from strangers.”

“You wanna know, or what?”

Gwen was picking at her food as she listened intently to Peter’s tale. His own words sound like gibberish to his ears, but once he had started he couldn’t stop his tirade. He had to admit it was quite funny to see Harry’s evolving perplexed face as his story went on. Peter wasn’t so sure about Gwen, however, whose interest had visibly dropped after Peter had described the moment when the mercenary had licked pizza out of his hand while doing his unfateful hit. She was the one who spoke first after Peter finally reached the part where he had left on the subway in the early hours of the morning, picking up her phone from the table.

“Jesus. You could’ve just said you got a girlfriend from Canada, it would have been more credible.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will finally be from Wade POV!  
> I might be writing Gwen with a few of MJ's characteristics in mind, but it's mostly because I love them both and I had to choose!  
> I’m very sorry again for me not reading comments! I very appreciate if you sent one, even though I can’t bring myself to read it.


	4. Swallow and spit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part. 2: Where Wade actually got the blowjob for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen if you want to I add songs every day I'm going crazy  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/34nozsfnvqf81nfbdyrlp4gtj/playlist/1BHxoq7acq023MlAUmBmGh

“I’d love a blowjob.”

“We got that in common.”

Wade was sitting on his tool looking at the unappealing sight of Weasel cleaning up an unusually large and dirty goblet behind the bar.

“The drink, moose-knuckle. But first...”

“It’s barely noon,” Weasel expressionlessly replied, looking at Wade with those stinky eyes of his.

“Since when does it make any difference to you?” Wade defended himself while he dug into his pocket to retrieve his yellow ‘hit’ card.

“You didn’t come by yesterday. What happened, did that Jeremy thing gave you more trouble than it should’ve?” the bartender asked, scanning Wade’s card at the register.

“Nah, something else came up. I do have a life outside of you all.”

Weasel made an unimpressed scoff that irritated Wade so much that he had to resist, like many other times, not to rip the guy’s glasses off his annoying face and put them in one of the glasses passing by on trays behind him. The place was packed for a Friday morning. If Wade had not come in through the front door just five minutes ago under a bright clear sky, he could’ve believed it was the middle of the night with the lack of windows and of general sources of light around the room. Weasel laid out like a bank teller the three hundred dollars Wade had earned for his last hit, although Wade pushed the money back toward the other man right away.

“I ain’t taking allowance money. Make sure it gets back to Ms. Osflorsky? Onroflensky? Olly-Olly-Oxen-Free?”

“Orlofsky. For a merc, you sure are warm-blooded. Bet you let the boy off easy-peasy, too,” Weasel assumed, except Wade had already stopped listening when he had seen Peter’s name lighting up on his phone after pulling it out of his pocket.

(11:45) **_I’m kinda glad I won’t have to deliver pizza to stoners anymore_**

“Wade?”

“What?”

“I said you’re getting soft.”

“Huh,” Wade reacted more to Peter's text than to his friend’s word. However, his neck got a little red from embarrassment at Weasel’s remark and he had to put down his phone to defend himself. “He’s not a bad kid, Weas. Just a little light stalking. I would be a big fat hypocrite if I ruffled him too much. I like meeting new…”

“And exciting people. And killing them. We know.” Weasel’s eyes rolled very high in their sockets but stopped curiously to look at Wade when he saw the man looking down intently at his cell phone as he was starting to come up with a text. “Is that where you went after?”

“Kinda.”

Wade didn’t know what would sound weirder. Admitting he had waited for an 18 years old boy, one he had just met during a hit, in the back alley of his workplace in the middle of the night and then took him out on an arcade date or lying that he had followed and unalive someone like he had done many times before. Most likely the first one, but the mercenary, yet, still wanted to brag about the cute boy he got to kiss a few hours ago. Yeah, that would be weird. Plus, he didn’t want to explore the exact reasons why he did that. Especially with Weasel, who had taken notice of his tender side enough already for today.

(11:58) **Are you thanking me right now because I accept it**

“Don’t get this wrong, I don’t care about what you do. At all. But you just tickled my interest.” Weasel put the finishing touches on the drink and pushed it across the bar to Wade. “Kahlua, Bailey’s, whip cream. Fellatio in a glass.”

“Ew,” Wade uttered, as he was looking upon the small yet delightful looking drink that had a proper mountain of whipped cream on top. Weasel was treating him well. “But _this_ , this is art.”

Wade was ready to swallow down the whole drink in one swig, and that without using his hands, the proper way, which he proceeded to do in front of a repulsed looking Weasel. The only problem was that he didn’t get to swallow it down before Peter’s name lighted up his phone screen again.

(11:59) **_I think I’ll need a sugar daddy now_**

He knew he had two choices. One, he could choke on whipped cream and most likely die, or two, he could let it all out on Weasel’s counter. It ended up being a combination of both and it wasn’t pretty, which was a shame given the delicious drink he would have gotten out of this. That Peter guy was going to kill him. But then again, frankly, Wade was pretty much convinced that if the guy had sent him a picture of his eyelashes instead, his reaction would’ve pretty much been the same, pathetically enough.

“Now we know you spit. A sad day for all of us,” Weasel let out as he dejectedly looked down at the mix of alcohol, whipped cream and spit now on his counter and his shirt.

“Choking on a blowjob. Make sure to tell everyone at the funeral,” Wade said with difficulty. His voice sounded more destroyed than that time when he went to that gay club in Vancouver.

“That’s your style.”

“You would be happy.” Wade pointed dejectedly to the enormous chalkboard hanging above the bar where their dead pool stood, where, beside Weasel’s name, was Wade’s. “Weasel, you’re the world’s worst friend.”

Wade had to wipe off some of the brown liquid that had spilled on his phone screen before he could reply to Peter’s playful text. He could hear his friend muffling under his breath after he had seen Wade completely disregarded the mess on the counter all around where his phone previously was. But for what it was worth, Wade was also ignoring the sad state of his own shirt.

(12:01) **Do you take applications?**

“What was that? Martha Stewart answered to your dm’s on Twitter or something?” asked Weasel, incredulously.

Wade asked his own question instead, his eyes following the bartender’s tending hand on the bar in front of him, “Did it ever happen to you that the person delivering your pizza looked better than the juicy pizza you had ordered?”

“Are you sure you didn’t watch a porno while falling asleep again?” Weasel, who had clearly lost some of the interest he had minutes earlier in Wade’s unfamiliar behavior, suggested while still persistently trying to rub off with an already filthy enough towel the splash.

“You know me well, but no.”

(12:05) **_I will need an interview with you first, I’ve received a lot of applications already_**

That little shit.

(12:06) **Is that so**

Well, their meeting did have some kind of porno vibe to it. He could just tell the younger man was a full-blown nerd, only by looking at the math pun on his t-shirt and by beholding the exaggerate number of times he had referenced some old movie, but he was positively gorgeous. So gorgeous in fact that Wade had to refrain himself from asking multiple times throughout the night if he had ever considered being a model or something, ‘cause he would pay for that shit. The impressive mass of brown hair on the boy’s head had been disheveled and there had been sweat glistening on his forehead from the heat of the pizza boxes in his arms and probably from the stress of having a mercenary threatening someone in front of him. He had handled that pretty well, nonetheless, Wade had to admit. He had a bruise on his cheek, so maybe he was used to this kind of shit? Wade hoped not.

His stunning brown eyes had been so tired but had seemed irradiated once he and Wade had started playing under the arcade’s flashy colorful lights. It had gotten pretty hard to concentrate when Peter would fix him with those doe eyes of his, blinking so drowsily. The guy was showing his age, that was for sure. He had realized Peter had contact lenses on, and probably had them on for a while, after Wade had first put his face close to his. It made the older man feel quite bad for keeping him up so late, now that he was thinking about it. It was hard to remind himself that Peter was still in high school. That while Wade was hanging out at a bar, Peter actually had to attend classes and everything. _Well, fuck._

Moreover, it was kind of a miracle that the younger man had accepted to go out with him, especially after witnessing him at ‘work’. At least it had ended pretty well since nobody got killed. His hit hadn't even wet his pants! Never in his life, Wade had met someone so willing to follow his antics. Nonetheless, Wade couldn’t help his mind from wandering from the moment he had seen Peter go down the subway. _Did Peter only accepted to come with me ‘cause I was kinda pushing it? But why did he kiss me? Had he been scared to anger a merc?_ Anyhow, the image of that stupidly attractive nerd wouldn’t leave his head, which was never a good sign in Wade’s book.

“Don’t spit out this one, please, I’m begging you,” Weasel said, sliding a new drink to Wade, this time a regular glass of dark rum. “Maybe you’re too old to take down alcohol now. It happens to all of us. Sorry, pal.”

“I’m not that old! Am I?”

The counter was cleaner than it ever was before he sat on his tool. Or perhaps even cleaner that Wade had ever seen it. It didn’t take him much to convince himself that it was the reason why he let his head, forehead first, fall dramatically on its wooden surface.

“Okay, Wade, what happened?”

Wade could’ve been touched by Weasel’s concern if there wasn’t such a sardonic tone to his question. It sounded like he was asking a petulant child why he was pouting on the playground.

“Pizza delivery people are evil. They get to your tummy and sneak into your heart,” Wade responded, his voice muffled into the wood.

“Damn, you really need to lay one. Want me to call someone?”

Wade raised his head to look deadpanned into the eyes of his friend as an answer. He saw them rolled again behind the guy’s glasses. At this rate, Weasel was going to get brain cancer from all the eye rolling he did.

Weasel let out an aggravated sigh and asked, “Do you even know her name?”

“Peter,” Wade let out as his forehead was falling back like a magnet on the counter.

“Oh. Nice.”

Weasel had started to look intriguingly at Wade, as though he was waiting for some dirty details from him. It quickly turned into surprise when the other man nothing but cried out, turning several heads in their direction, “He’s 18, Weas!”

“So, what? You’ve _done_ worst thing in your life. Get it?”

“You’re terrible.”

Wade looked down at his phone and momentarily hated himself for the hollow feeling he got from the lack of Peter’s reply.

_Why am I so fucking preoccupied by this?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is a Big Boy


	5. No spaghetti and meatballs for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part. 3 of the no-sex montage saga: The two meets again and Peter needs a lot of coffee and therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve never eaten a Peep in my life.
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/34nozsfnvqf81nfbdyrlp4gtj/playlist/1BHxoq7acq023MlAUmBmGh

“Hey.”

Peter walked into the kitchen where his aunt May was cutting tomatoes and onions with a rag over her left shoulder. The woman was not even flinching a little bit from the onions scattered everywhere on the tiny counter, oppose to Peter whose tired eyes started stinging even more.

“I’m making spaghetti and meatballs tonight.”

“You’re serious? Spaghetti and meatballs,” Peter replied quietly, taking out some juice out of the fridge. His aunt May was cooking spaghetti and meatballs an awful lot for someone who’s said meatball recipe wasn’t that great. Not that her cooking was always bad, but still. There was an unspoken rule between him and his uncle to never mention that fact in front of her.

“Since when don’t you like spaghetti and meatballs, huh?” May had stopped dead in her track in front of the ovens to look wide-eyed at Peter’s face, more specifically at his cheek. “Oh, my god.”

“What’s up?”

“What happened to your face?”

They hadn’t seen each other since Peter had left his aunt and uncle soon after dinner last night for work. That time, he had made sure to cover up the obvious bruise on his cheek from Flash with his hand or the corner of his hood. But this time, he had completely forgotten about that last morning incident, what with the freshly broken cellphone in his pocket. He had realized quickly enough at lunch that is screen was more than heavily cracked, it was barely even working anymore. So much so that didn’t get to type out a reply to Wade, given the lack of response to his finger the screen was showing. He would have to repair that. The impossibly of him responding to the man had driven him crazy all afternoon. Well, during the short-lived moment of consciousness Peter have had during his last two classes, which he slept through most of them. They were such power naps that it was _almost_ feeling fine, now. It was no longer furious red, but it had taken the blue color indicating the start of a bruise.

“I’m all right. Just – I fell off my bike during work last night.” His aunt looked at him with worry, dropping the rag on her shoulder on the kitchen counter as he sat clumsily beside the sink. “It’s all right.”

It was. His cheek wasn’t even hurting anymore. Peter had made sure to put a huge bag of ice on his sore cheek in the back store before his first delivery of the night after having practically run out on his aunt and uncle to tend at his injury.

“And where is it, anyway? Is that why you came home so late last night? We told you having a night job wasn’t good for you. Maybe it was alright during summer but not now!” May was vigorously pushing with a knife her chopped onions into the pot on the oven. Peter didn’t get the chance to confess, even if he really would’ve wanted to, that he no longer had the job before his aunt continued her tirade. “How can you function if you come home at 5 am and go to school at 8?”

May was interrupted, to Peter’s satisfaction, by Ben coming from their basement to their kitchen with a jam-packed box, the objects pocking out from it smudged with dust and spider webs. The gray-haired man was barefoot and the bottom of his pants rolled up to his ankles. His feet were dropping water and leaving wet footprints on the wooden floor behind him.

“Ben Parker, don’t you even think about leaving that filthy box in my kitchen.”

Peter laughed to himself as he took a sip of his juice and watched his surrogate parents bickering about Ben’s old stuff from when he was probably decades younger. They had a bunch of boxes like that one in the basement since even before Peter had been dropped at their house all those years ago.

“Oh, well, then, by all means, please leave that box in my kitchen.”

Ben stopped in his track, similar to the way May had done moments earlier, to look with a lot of curiosity at Peter’s mild injury. It was a miracle he even got to hide it yesterday with all of this fuss, but then again, he had basically bolted out of the house after dinner. His uncle set down his box on the floor as he asked Peter, “What happened to you?”

“He fell on the job,” his wife answered him instead, looking disapprovingly at their nephew currently sipping juice still sat on one of the kitchen counters, his long figure leaning forward a bit due to the curve of his back.

His uncle sighed and Peter was already getting ready to hear yet another of the man’s lecture about his job. He didn’t how the two of them would react to him having losing it. He couldn’t tell he had simply left, they knew he was way too stubborn for that. Nevertheless, he wasn’t so sure they would take the real reason why he was fired very well.

“Peter…”

“Where’s the flood?” Peter interrupted his uncle, pointing out with his juice where the older man’s feet had been dripping water on the same spot of the kitchen.

Ben took back his dusty box off the floor and simply turned back out of the kitchen as he called out to Peter. “Follow me. I’ll show you.”

“All right.” Peter slide ungracefully off the counter under his aunt’s gaze.

Their basement was as filthy and dim as it always was, but now there was at the very least thirty centimeters of water submerging the floor. Every source of light they had working down here was a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling and the two closed windows shedding each a bright white ray of sunshine to the ground. Peter noted the strong scent of old wet wood all around them.

“I think it’s the condenser tray,” Ben suggested.

It was usually Peter who fixed that sort of thing around the house. If he was able to invent a lock at distance for his room, he was certainly competent enough to repair the typical defective washing machine or the usual water problem and such.

“No, too much water for the condenser tray or the heat exchange tubing. This has got to be the fill line.”

“That’s the only thing that makes any sense. Can you fix it?”

“No, not tonight. I’ll go by the hardware store tomorrow.”

“Good deal. And meanwhile, put this on your face and go take a nap before dinner.” Ben took a frozen meat out of the freezer they stocked there and toss it at Peter who nearly dropped it in the water below him. “How’s the other guy look?”

Peter turned his head in his uncle’s direction so fast he was lucky he didn’t get hurt.

“Come on. I know a right cross when I see one.” Ben observed his nephew placed the freezing steak lightly on his jaw. It was more to appease his uncle than for anything else. Really, now putting any pressure was only making it hurt more. “Yes or no? Do I have to call somebody’s father?”

Peter shook his head. “No, no.”

 “All right. Well, I wouldn’t tell your aunt May. You working tonight?”

“No.” Peter thought it was now or never. He would have to be as vague as possible since he probably shouldn’t bring up any mercenary business. “I got fired last night.”

“Oh, that your aunt May will be happy to hear. What did that nasty old man tell you?”

“I was late and – and he didn’t like that.”

Peter couldn’t look directly at his uncle and instead hid a part of his face with the meat. He felt shame now that he was face to face with the man who had taken care of him all of his life. For his part, Peter couldn’t even help them financially by keeping his job for more than four months. What a great nephew he did.

“Don’t worry, Pete.” Ben put his hand on Peter’s shoulder and tighten it in a gentle manner that suited well with the reassuring smile he gave him. Peter felt himself relax a little. “I’m getting back on my feet.”

Peter nodded as the older man let go of him with one last tap on his shoulder.

“Now, before you come up see if there’s anything else worth saving.”

Soon, Peter was left rummaging alone, his feet uncomfortably cold, through their basement. He had put back the piece of meat inside the freezer when he heard his uncle make his last step on the stairs. There wasn’t much saving. A lot of the old boxes stored there didn’t have anything written on them to identify them and some were now too soaked to decipher any handwriting on it. He picked up still the one on the top of the pile at the far corner of the room, getting some of the dust it was covered with on him. When he thought there was just another box under it there was actually an old looking briefcase. It was the kind he would see career middle-aged men carrying with them on the subway. Brown and big enough to be filled with files and all sort of important papers. What really caught the 18 years old’s eyes, though, was the initials inscribed on its once shiny opening device. Peter had to skint and aim the thing toward some kind of light provided by the small lightbulb to properly see like he had first assumed at his first glance in the dark, the two letters: R.P.

A part of him wanted the briefcase to have belonged to his uncle instead, while the other and more emotional part of him was ecstatic of having a piece of his father at his fingertips. He could tell there were tears in his eyes from the nagging sensation behind them and the way the two adults were watching at him on the other side of the kitchen table when he had gone up the stairs and silently stared at his father’s possession.

Ben and May both stayed as silent as their nephew until Ben was the one to break the deal. “I forgot all about that thing. It was your dad’s.”

“Yeah.” He looked at it, bewildered. He couldn’t believe his dad had touched and most likely carried the object every day.

“He asked us to keep it safe.”

“He asked you to keep it safe, why? There’s nothing in here. Have you looked? There’s nothing here.” He was disappointed and it showed in the tremble of his voice as if it could have helped to unlock the mystery that was his father. But old papers and pencils just couldn’t do it.

“Your father was a very secretive man, Peter,” May tried to reassure him but it only made the hole in his chest grow bigger.

“Yeah, I know,” Peter scoffed sadly, looking down at the piece of brown fabric on the table before him.

He touched inside the briefcase only to find amongst the paper and pencils a picture of a man that was definitely his dad with one he didn’t recognize. “Who’s that? Do you know who that is?”

“Some guy who worked with your dad, I guess,” Ben replied vaguely. The man couldn’t hear the urgency behind Peter’s question.

Peter then quickly direct the photograph to his aunt May, eager to find some kind of answer. Anything. But she shook her head, unknowingly crushing Peter’s hope in pieces.

“Just take this off the table, all right?” She then changed the subject as she pulled the old briefcase off the table and back into Peter’s hands.

Peter turned and left the room to go upstairs to his own, unknowing of the sorrowful silence he left behind. He led out on the ground all of the stuff that had been contained inside the briefcase for so long. Rummaging through it, he quickly discovered a pair of glasses inside of its thin container. It was quite dirty with all sort of things from being confined in there for ten years. However, that fact didn’t stop Peter in the slightest from bolting off his floor to the bathroom, glasses in hand, which he washed with great care once he reached the sink. He took out his contact lenses without much difficulty and put his father’s glasses on. They kind of had that same old look to them than the briefcase, and corresponding to what he had expected, not totally right for his poor vision. Nonetheless, he kept them on and came back to his room like nothing had changed.

Maybe he had been wrong after all. As he was stroking the bag for something else, Peter’s fingers touched what felt like something thick was still inside of it. For some minutes, he couldn’t figure the way to get to the mysterious object, but when he did, Peter was left with some heavy file. From all of the scientific data and calculus spattered on the numerous papers gathered together inside, Peter soon realized he had some important, from what he could gather, part of father’s research in front of his eyes. He locked his door from the floor with his device. “What is this? Zero, zero, decay rate algorithm,” Peter whispered to himself as passed his finger on the unfamiliar symbol on the page. What had his dad been doing studies on?

He could remember the last thing his dad had ever said to him before leaving him hopeless in front of his aunt and uncle’s door. Peter had been so young then, but while he couldn’t remember the exact sound of his father’s voice, he could still hear his words like it was yesterday. “I need you to be a good boy,” he had said to him, at eye-level to his much smaller self. “There’s something your mom and I have to do.”

The sore memory was interrupted by a tune coming from his backpack close to the door. Peter didn’t take the time to pick himself off the wooden floor to go find his phone and stop the ridiculous ringtone to chime. It was a proper challenge to tap on the reply button and for it to actually work, the call nearly ended before he had the chance to succeed. If only he would have looked at the caller’s name through the cracks on his screen before answering, maybe Peter wouldn’t have been left this shocked to hear Wade’s voice coming on the other end.

“Peter, you’re there, buddy?”

“Hey!” Peter had cleared his throat audibly before answering. “What’s up?”

“I was wondering how you were doing. You know, ‘cause you were barely up on your feet when I left you.” Wade didn’t miss a beat before specifying in the teasing tone Peter was unfortunately already too familiar with, “which is the only way you should be after being with me, of course.”

“Yea, right,” Peter scoffed out whilst he changed his kneeling position to a more comfortable one. Well, as much as he could on such a hard floor, which his bum could be the first to attest to it. He had his lean legs bent where both of his lanky arms were leaning on, one hand lazily holding the phone against his hear while the other one was dangling from his knee. “I’m good. I slept all day.”

“Weren’t you at school?” questioned Wade, a bit incredulous.

“Yep,” Peter followed suit, emphasizing the ‘p’ with a pop of his mouth.

“The nerd rebels.” Wade’s smile was apparent in his voice.

“No, the nerd is tired,” Peter corrected him. “Sorry I ghosted you, earlier. I- I broke my phone.”

“I just figured you fell asleep somewhere. That’s what I do. The greatest night of sleep I’ve ever had was on top of a washing machine.”

“I don’t doubt that. The vibrations sound nice.” Peter looked over at his father’s old stuff scattered over the floor beside his bed. “Hey um – do you wanna do something?”

“Like now?”

Maybe he hadn’t thought this through.

“I mean – I mean, yea. If – that’s what… you? Because I…”

He _definitely_ hadn’t thought this through.

“Yea, no, no, that sounds great!”

“Oh.” Peter swapped his phone to his left hand, his other one now busy with rubbing his fast warming face, contorted from cringe. “That’s great.”

“It is!” There was some kind of silence where Peter could faintly hear smashed glass and some other voice than Wade before the man spoke again. “So… where do you wanna meet? I suppose you don’t want me showing up in your backyard.”

“You don’t even know where I live.”

“That’s kind of my job to find out, Petey,” Wade stated, accompanied with a loud bang of what Peter could only assume was a door.

Peter didn’t really know what to answer to that. As much as he was trying to forget about the obvious and truly unforgettable fact that the man he was talking on the phone to was killing people for money. So instead of digging into that really, really small detail, he said, “I was supposed to eat spaghetti and meatballs.”

“What makes you think I can compete with that?” Wade retorted and Peter wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not.

“I need coffee. So much of it.”

“I’m bringing the Peeps and you bring your sweet ass. Meet you at the station.”

“I – okay?” Peter answered but Wade had already hung up.

_Did this go well?_

There was a knock on his door and Peter’s name being gently called out by his uncle on the other side.

“Yeah, one sec, one sec.”

Peter hurried back to his feet, slipped his phone into his pocket and hastily changed t-shirt and put back his vest before opening his door to a perplexed uncle Ben.

“Oh, my god. You look just like him.” Peter didn’t know what to think or answer to that and scratched his left temple as he walked out of his room past the other man. “Where are you going?”

“At Harry’s.” Peter made sure to close his door shut before walking down the stairs, Ben following suit after him. “He needs me for something.”

“Right. Is the kid alright?”

“Yea.” Peter vaguely answered. It felt very strange to be lying about Harry when Peter knew he was not leaving to hang out with his best friend that was very much unwell. He chased the thought out of his head, anyway.

“Your aunt will be disappointed. She made a lot of meatballs. Maybe he could come eat with us, instead?”

“No, no.” The concept of Wade eating dinner with them seemed particularly amusing to Peter in the half a second where he had forgotten who his uncle thought they were actually talking about. “Tell her I’m sorry and to keep me some.”

“Of course.” Ben laughed and pushed playfully further with one finger the glasses on Peter’s nose before leaving for the kitchen where they could both hear May handling some plates. Peter felt bad, but if he was to stay, the thought of his father’s enigmatic researches would occupy all of his thoughts. He had to get away from that.

Besides, he did want to see Wade again, as irrational as it seemed, even to himself. Being back at the metro station before a whole day had even passed was an indicator for something in itself that Peter preferred not to dig into. Gwen had still chosen not to believe his story after his countless recounts of what had happened that night. He had shown his friend the pink jelly ruler he had won as if it could have actually helped his case. Should he be vexed his friends could not believe for one second that a dangerous older guy could ever be interested in him? It was starting to think that he should, when there was no sign of Wade at their meeting stop.

The 18 years old ended up sitting against the dark green fence where people would come down the station on the other side. As he had expected for a Friday night, there were an incredible number of cyclists and pedestrians walking past him as he watched the slowly moving cars driving by on the street. The sky hadn’t quite set yet. They were at that period of time at the end of October where the wind would get chillier and the air colder. Peter tightened his vest around him, a lady just barely missed his head with her bag. Not longer than fifteen minutes must have passed between the moment Peter first opted to sit on the pavement and the one when he heard a recognizable voice coming from above him.

“So, you can sleep _and_ sit anywhere?” Wade was towering over Peter and offering his hand for him to stand up. “I know where you could sit.”

Was he supposed to shake his hand? Kiss him? Hug? Wade made the decision for Peter by deposing into the hand he had in his grasp, once Peter was back on his feet, something sugary and awfully squishy.

“Sorry I’m late, it was hard to find the right Peeps.”

“Why is it like that?”

Wade was holding three small boxes of Peeps, but one was more or less empty. According to the writing and flashy images on them, the chick’s shaped marshmallows were pancake and syrup flavored. The lone unappealing colored chick in Peter’s palm was smelling equally of diabetes and sugar coma.

“I was almost tempted by the pumpkin ones they had everywhere, but _these_.” Wade gave one big and loud smooch to one of the orange and yellow boxes. “These ones are special.”

“They look even more like poop.” Peter took a bite out of the beige marshmallow sat on his palm and immediately take the rest into his mouth. Wade was doing the same thing but with two. “Wow, okay, you were right.”

“I got plenty where they came from, baby boy,” Wade said, licking the sugar on his fingers. Peter knew why the man’s hand had felt so sticky, now.

“You’re one of those guys who like their breakfast food to be everywhere?”

“I’m not ashamed!” Wade exclaimed a tad too loudly. A lady walking by gave them a dirty look while another one bumped into Wade’s back, forcing him, without much resistance from his part, to get further into Peter’s space.

“I would say your glasses make you look even nerdier, but they only make you look hotter,” Wade said, his eyes roaming over the smaller man’s face.

“They were my dad’s,” was all Peter could come back with, his instinct dictating him to look down at the man’s boots instead of facing Wade’s avid gaze like he would’ve wanted to. The taller man was wearing the same burgundy coat Peter had seen him wear yesterday, which had a way to make him wonder if the gun and knife he had were still hidden under there.

“Come with me. I know where you could get your caffeine on.” Peter looked up to see Wade smiling softly at him while poking his cheek with one of the questionable colored marshmallows.

The walk to Wade’s special place felt astoundingly familiar, and it was apparently the case for Wade too since he had to mention it three times to Peter in the twenty minutes where they walked side by side on the sidewalk. Wade was soon leading them inside of small building who gave the impression of being closed given the faint light they could see through its front window. A strong smell of chocolate, coffee and of old cardboards hit them both as soon as they stepped inside the coffee shop. There were rows jammed packed with piles of board games of every color and shape in all corners of the relatively small place. Soft rock music was playing on the speakers as some people were playing some games on different round tables, some of them with a steaming mug in their hand.

“You know I’m not a hipster, right?” Peter felt the need to assert to the older man. “Right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Wade’s neck was turning red when he turned away from Peter and sped up toward a man behind a long counter preparing what looked like an expresso. “Hey, Billy!”

“Wade!”

The two men waved at each other, the so-called Billy barely missing to spill the small cup in his hands. The owner looked like your average hipster and then some. He was dress in more plaid shirts under his thin apron that Peter had ever seen anyone wear at once. His most remarkable feature was certainly his mustache straight out of the 80’s, although he couldn’t be older than in his late 20s.

Wade leaned toward Peter and whispered in a conspiratorial tone as they were heading in the direction of one of the smaller tables in the corner actually having a bench, “he used to be one of the nastiest mercs I know.”

“This guy?” Peter skeptically murmured back, sitting on the beaten bench. It creaked heavily under his weight, but it was nothing compared to which noise it did when Wade sat down on it beside Peter.

“That doesn’t seem like your kind of place,” Peter told Wade.

“I go there all the time! I won the chess tournament just last week!” Wade replied back without missing a beat. He had dropped the boxes of Peeps in front of them, one having none left in it from their walk there.

“Yeah, right.” Peter had dropped his elbows on the hard surface of their table, leaning forward slightly. “You strike me more of a tavern kind of guy.”

“Hey, Wade! I never see you around!” Billy called out, coming up behind Wade, whose neck had gotten so red it was now spreading to his unshaved cheeks.

Peter smiled up at the barista, making his best effort not to burst out laughing.

“Well, you know the job. It takes up all of your time,” Wade explained to the guy squeezing his shoulder with a certain amount of force given the way Wade’s upper body was practically swaying under Billy’s hand.

“Could I have a black coffee, please?” Peter asked the man, amused, as though there was nothing unusual about the encounter in front of him.

“And can I have a mocha cappuccino? Don’t forget whipped cream!”

“I remember how much you love your whipped cream.” Billy patted Wade’s shoulder one last time before they were left alone.

“Do you think I could retire and open a coffee shop too?” Wade asked Peter after what the younger thought was an over-the-top dreamy sigh.

“I don’t think you could pull off a mustache, though.”

“At least I can grow one,” Wade taunted right back at him. The smile on his face was annoying the 18 years old so much he wanted to smack it. Or kiss it. He would’ve to decide.

“Pfft,” Peter let out at the same moment Billy came back with their drink, who looked a bit out of breath probably from the energy he had put into making them in a record time. Wade’s looked particularly more appealing than Peter’s, he had to admit. But every drink looked better with whipped cream on top. Wade didn’t waste any time before adding some of his pancake and syrup flavored Peeps on top, dropping one into Peter’s own drink as well.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me again after last night,” Wade admitted after the barista had strolled away with their money and he had already swallowed down most of his beverage.

“Why? I thought I made it clear I wanted to see you again.”

Didn’t Wade remember how he had kissed him? For his part, Peter couldn’t really say he could ever forget.

Wade pursed his lips and simply replied, “it’s a matter of time until you come to your senses.”

“You didn’t kill Jeremy, though,” Peter mentioned. There was a part of him that couldn’t believe he was defending a mercenary to his face. “And you could’ve. You _really_ could’ve.”

Wade looked pensive when he asked, “do you think he would’ve deserved it?”

“No.”

“There’s worse kind of scumbags that deserves a lot worse than what I gave the kid.”

Peter chose it was better not to answer. What could he even say to that? Their legs were brushing against each other under the table, the two of them busy sipping at their hot mug, Wade had begun moaning rather loudly while doing so. He had whipped cream all over his mouth, messing up like numerous time again the image Peter had preconceived in his head of how a mercenary would act. The man was nothing like Peter had thought him to be when he had first seen him waving a gun and a knife around in some guy’s apartment. He wasn’t so sure if there were any other mercenaries like him, or anyone, for that matter. Hell, Peter was ready to bet he would’ve been killed right then and there in Jeremy’s living room if any other one of Wade’s ‘friends’ had shown up instead of him.

“I really liked kissing you, by the way,” Peter confessed between large gulps of his strong coffee. He hadn’t glanced at the man’s seated next to him but Peter could tell he had gotten a reaction out of him given the fact that he put down his nearly empty mug. He felt his leg moving against his own.

“Oh, did you?”

Wade had turned his whole body in Peter’s direction. Peter only took notice when he turned his head to face the other man, who had gotten a lot closer than he had expected him to be. He was met with a coy smile and a pair of hazel eyes locked on him. It was difficult to read the man’s gaze and honestly quite difficult to meet it for more than a few seconds without it wavering away. Never Peter had had someone looking at him like that and it was quite nerve-wracking.

“Yeah.” Peter smiled back, biting lightly on his lips while looking at Wade’s. He could feel Wade’s breath against his mouth as they were both half-unconsciously leaning closer. The man was smelling of sweets and perhaps of gunpowder. It was not long before Peter could taste the cream and chocolate on Wade’s lips. But just when he was about to press further onto Wade, Peter jumped away at the sudden and regrettably audible sound of his cellphone ringing a sped-up yodeler’s dance.

“That’s my – uh…” Peter muttered awkwardly, as he pulled off the lousy cellphone for his jeans. “Aunt?”

“You gave that ringtone to your aunt?”

Peter rejected the call reluctantly. He was fine with the music stopping, especially since everyone else in the coffee shop had now turned away their heads from their table, but rejecting a call from his aunt May simply didn’t feel right by him.

“My friend picked it out for me as a joke and after a while, I just couldn’t get rid of it.”

“Mine for you is Ti Amo. I’m pretty sure it started playing when we first met.”

“Shut up,” Peter groaned out. He was tempted to bury his face in his arms that had crossed on the table but thought better of it when he had seen that Wade had started chuckling to himself. Their brief kiss had left a sentiment of dissatisfaction inside Peter that kept growing the longer he looked over at the other man’s beaming face. All that Peter could think about was about how much he wanted to stroke the stubble on the man’s jaw and cheeks and caress the bit of exposed skin of his chest that exceeded from the low-cut tank top under his coat.

Wade glanced at Peter’s phone mess of screen on the table between their two mugs and asked with curiosity, “what happened to your phone, exactly?”

“Some guy pumped into me at school and I dropped it,” Peter explained between gritted teeth.

“Was your guy a bulldozer, or something?”

“He’s a jackass.”

Wade must have heard something in his voice because his own had suddenly turned solemn when he said, “you know I kill people for a living.”

“Uh, yeah?”

“It’s free for you. You just gotta ask. Well, you can also go to Weasel for the arrangement stuff, but I’m your guy.”

“What, no!”

Wade poked lightly the bruise on Peter’s jaw. “He’s the guy who did that, right?”

“How did you…”

The merc’s eyebrows raised in surprise, anger tainting his next words. “I took a fucking guess! Do you know where he lives?”

“What, no, stop it!” Peter busted out laughing taking Wade with him. How he had ended up having a conversation like this ever in his life was escaping him.

“No, but seriously. Tell me if you want me to ruffle this fuckhead’s feathers.” He pointed to the broken-up phone. “I could get it fixed for you if you want?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m good at fixing things. But thanks, sugar daddy.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” Wade proceeded then to get down in one swallow the rest of his cappuccino. Most of it was the strongly sweet layer of remaining chocolate that had dropped at the bottom. He licked his lips and asked casually through his brown lips, “why do you think your aunt was calling?”

“She must be worried, I guess.” He did have some guesses and they all involved around the briefcase that was laying on his bedroom’s floor at that very moment.

“Why? Did you tell her who you are with?” 

“That’s not that.” Peter considered Wade, gauging him. Was he really considering sharing the concern that had been eating him away for hours now? That his father’s briefcase was the closest he had ever gotten to know the man? If anything, Wade could probably understand Peter’s dad issues better than anyone, he supposed.

“I found some of my dad’s old stuff in my house, earlier.” Wade was waiting for him to continue. Despite this, the younger man couldn’t find the right words to express how confused he was just thinking about it. Some seconds had passed until Peter felt a hand resting on his elbow resting on the wooden table and somewhat it grounded him enough to elaborate a little further. “I don’t understand. How can you leave your 8 years old son behind without any explanation?”

“I would’ve much preferred that.” The hand on his elbow tightened as well as Wade’s facial expression. “Believe me, you didn’t have to suffer through them.”

“I found some of my dad’s old files from when he worked as a scientist. It feels as if decoding his research will bring me closer to the truth, or him, or something.” Peter felt as though he was talking complete nonsense, but he was taken aback by the total understanding in the other’s eyes.

It seemed crazy that Peter was finding everything he never had in anyone else before in the person beside him, but Peter didn’t care if it didn’t make any sense, why would it. What was really crazy, though, was that it had only taken two encounters with the man to realize that, but again, he didn’t care. _God_ , what was he going to say to Harry and Gwen, now.

“You’ve had whipped cream on your face for a while, you animal.” Peter suspected Wade of wanting to lighten the mood. But indeed, there was, in fact, some residue of the dessert Wade had passed on to him at the corner of his lips when Peter reached up to touch it. “Want me to get it for you?”

Wade leaned once more toward Peter, and this time, instead of being interrupted by some godawful yodeler tune, they were broken up by the embarrassed calls of Billy trying desperately to make them understand that he had to close down.

 


	6. A fish called Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade brings Peter some dumplings AKA clingy boyfriends are clingy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter’s title is a reference I hope at least one person got.  
> Investigation time is next and there might be some spiders involved…

“What do you mean you two are going out?”

It was Monday, and like much Mondays, Peter had sleepily carried his bag over his shoulder and his skateboard under his arm down the school halls. Except, on that particular day, he couldn’t seem to rub out the permanent grin on his face. Gwen and Harry had joined him at his locker as he had been putting away his skate and grabbing some books inside. Both had been looking at him as if he had grown two heads over the weekend. It must have had something to do with the unexpected information he had just given them and not really for the fact that he was still wearing his father’s glasses. Which he could say took aback Harry a little bit when he had first come up to him that morning, him who used to see his best friend’s dad pretty much every day.

“Well, we’re kind of dating, I guess,” Peter answered, in a tone he hoped wasn’t too smug, Gwen’s question, that, in his opinion, was self-explanatory enough. His two friends were standing behind him while he rummaged through his stuff. “Didn’t I talk to you about him Friday?”

“Yes, but you can’t convince me you’re dating _this_ guy,” Harry retorted to Peter. He was eyeing the pictures Peter had taken of Wade the day before, going through them on Peter’s phone alongside a curious Gwen with her blonde eyebrows raised very high on her forehead.

His Saturday had consisted mostly of him putting the cracked screen of his phone back together whilst Wade was babbling his ears off from his upside-down position on Peter’s bed. His aunt and uncle had been out the majority of the day, which Peter took as an opportunity to sneak the older man into his room and slip him out before they could come back. But there had been a close call where his aunt nearly saw the Chinese takeout Wade had brought them poking out from under his desk where Peter had kicked it in extremis. In the meantime, Wade had pounded his heels against the wall and commented numerous times on what he called ‘Peter’s scientific face’, even though what he was doing had not much to do with science. He had made sure to put away his father’s briefcase before Wade could see it and the stuff belonging inside of it taking up most of his floor. Its presence at the corner of his eyes had nagged him all throughout that afternoon. When he had mentioned his questioning about the man in the picture with his dad to Wade, he had offered to find out who it was, since he was pretty good at this kind of stuff. But Peter had refused, giving the excuse of it not being that important. He was pretty sure Wade had caught up on the lie, but he hadn’t pressed any further.

Although the next day, on Sunday, it had already been quite dark outside when the two had met up downtown. Peter had wiped out his restored phone in Wade’s face, snapping then multiple shots of him and of the two of them, mouths full of ice cream in the middle of central park. Peter had asked to try on Wade’s coat and had doubled over laughing at the other man’s howl of hilarity at his strutting. He had noticed how more lightweight than he had anticipated it to be on his shoulders. There were no weapons inside like he had predicted and while he didn’t ask Wade about it, he hadn’t stopped wondering why the mercenary would’ve left his arms behind. He couldn’t have them on him that Saturday either for what Peter could’ve seen, given the fact that the man had spent all day with him wearing a tee-shirt, leaving gratefully not much for Peter’s vast imagination.

Peter heard Harry snorting with amazement behind him as he went through the pictures of him in the obnoxious red coat that Wade had captured of him. “Wow, Peter. Looks like you had a great time.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Peter said, taking back his cellphone from Harry’s hands, which led to the guy letting out an annoyed groan.

“And you say he’s a mercenary?” Gwen interjected. She made sure to keep her voice lower when she asked next, “he really kills people for a living?”

While Peter could see how she was trying to hide all judgment from her voice, he couldn’t ignore the blatant way she was looking at him. As if he had gone completely mad. It was especially apparent compared to Harry’s deeply amused expression.

“He only – executes – the ones who… deserve it?” Peter clarified to them, but it sounded more like a question an actual clarification. He was aware of how foolish he sounded, even maybe delusional. That was what Peter was left feeling anyway under the incredulous looks of his two friends at his unconvincing choice of wording. But nothing they could say would change Peter’s mind on the man at this point, anyway.

“Pete, don’t you think it’s a little… I don’t know… alarming?” Gwen supposed, hesitant.

Peter closed his locker’s door, the metallic clatter resonating loud in their ears.

“We’ll be late,” he said, already walking toward his first class of the day, which was also Harry’s.

“Alright. See you guys later,” Gwen called out to them before turning heels to her own class.

“You can’t exactly expect us not to question your choices, pal.” The dark circle under Harry’s eyes was stretched with the grin on his face. Despite the guy’s seeming good mood on that specific morning and impeccable clothes, as always, his tired eyes told another story.

“How are you holding up?” Peter asked his friend in lieu of commenting on the very much rational remark he had just given him.

“Oh, you know. It’s chaos in the house with all the nurses and Oscorp people running around everywhere,” Harry nonchalantly answered, but there was an obvious trace of resentment in his tone.

Peter simply nodded as they walked into the half-empty classroom. His crossed legs wouldn’t stop jolting for the duration of the lecture. He was taking notes but his head was elsewhere. The thought of his father’s briefcase gathering dust on his bedroom floor like it had done for years in their basement was leaving him feeling quite restless. Peter had avoided it all weekend for instead giving his full attention to Wade. Speaking of whom Peter wished he could be with right now in place of sitting there surrounded by other sleepy teenagers drooling over their notebooks. It was only during his second class that he got his first sign of Wade, though, adding fire to his extreme fidgetiness by the same token.

(10:29) **That fish made me think of you**

There was a badly taken picture of a wide-eyed fish in a huge fish tank attached to his text. Its eyes were on each side of his large face that was spotted with brownish dots and its large mouth gave the impression of being stupidly opened.

(10:30) **_What are you trying to say_**

(10:31) **_And where the hell are you??_**

(10:32) **Don’t worry you’re a cute fish**

(10:32) **There was a situation at that Chinese restaurant. Want me to bring you some fried dumpling later?**

(10:33) **_Don’t say that ever again_**

(10:33) ** _Yes_**

Peter smiled to himself and replaced back the phone in his hand with his pen. He was more or less sure about what that ‘situation’ must have consisted of. The merc had told Peter his fair share of stories while the teenager had been repairing his phone. The man’s face had been red from the blood that had been dropping alarmingly to his head for quite some time and Peter could’ve chosen not to believe half of those stories if it weren’t from all of the sordid details Wade was describing. From all he had gathered, compared to him, and clearly compared to most people, Wade had lived somewhat of a crazy life. Although it did sort of made the 18 years old feel frankly inexperienced around the older man, Wade was without a doubt immature enough for the two of them.

He could perhaps open up that briefcase again before Wade would come by. He must have missed something, he knew he did. There was no way his dad had hid those files without a reason behind it and asked his aunt and uncle to keep it safe in the same vein. But once Peter had closed it back when he ran out to Wade right after finding it, it was difficult to imagine himself back in that place without getting his head all riled up from it.

Only his aunt was present when Peter stepped inside the house much later that day. He hadn’t mentioned anything else about Wade, or anything about his discovery for that matter, to Gwen and Harry throughout the rest of the day. There was a huge part of him that felt really uncomfortable about bringing up his dead parents to his friends. Especially since one of them had a father currently on his deathbed and the other had one risking his life every day at work. Wade, on the other hand, had proven that he had a lot of history with fucked up parents and wasn’t shy about it. Not at all. Despite that, they hadn’t mentioned anything else significant about his dad again since that Friday night at the coffee shop. “Next time, you don’t have to try to impress me with some hipster place,” he could remember telling Wade before they went on their separate ways. Peter had quickly learned after that about Wade’s fervent love for Mexican and Chinese food and his actual distaste for anything too trendy or fancy. Even though he did like his fair share of whipped cream and sugary drinks, no matter how hard he had tried to deny it afterward.

Once up in his room, Peter locked his door behind him only to spread out like he had done it once before, only more neatly, all of the things contained inside his dad’s briefcase. He placed beside the pens, coins, calculator and the old photograph, his father’s Oscorp employee badge after he inspected it further. He didn’t find anything more than he had the first time he had taken a closer look at it. Besides, he already knew his dad’s name was Richard Parker and that he used to work at the genetics laboratory at Oscorp. He looked at it with annoyance now. As if he was angry at it for not giving him any answers to the questions he would’ve asked his father in the flesh. Peter was sitting in Indian, his glasses slipping down his nose, as he flipped through the files once more. Still, he couldn’t put his finger on what most of those formulas could mean.

Nearly half an hour had passed before Peter finally took off his eyes from his father’s research. That was only when he jumped at his uncle’s voice coming right on the other of his door that he did so.

“What?” Peter called out while he fumbled with the pile of papers in his hands.

“Dinner is ready,” Ben called back. Peter could tell he was still on the other side when he unlocked his door from his desk. “Can I come in?”

Peter sat down on his computer chair, looking up at his uncle’s face. “Yeah. What’s up?”

Ben stepped into the bedroom, picking up the cub Rubik at the far end corner of his desk. He seemed a bit hesitant, but his expression changed to a more resolute one when he looked down at his nephew’s bedroom floor where Richard’s belongings had been left there. Papers were dispersed everywhere on the ground and his uncle had to step over one on his way to the bed.

“We haven’t talked about what you found Friday. Hell, we don’t talk much about them, at all.” Ben sat on Peter’s unmade bed, fiddling with the cub Rubik in his hands and glancing frequently at the mess on his nephew’s floor. “Listen… I don’t have much education, you know that, Peter. I stopped being able to help you with your homework when you were 10. What I’m trying to say is… I know it’s been rough for you without your dad.”

Peter could see how much it had weighed his uncle and just how much it was paining him to finally say all of this to him.

“Yeah, it’s all right,” Peter reassured him, nodding a few times and shoving unintentionally the mouse on his desk with his elbow, causing his computer screen to light up behind his head.

 “No, it’s not all right. I wish I could change it, but I can’t.” Ben sighed deeply and pointed toward the photograph still on the ground where a bit of Richard Parker’s face was hidden under a piece of paper full of scribbles. “Curt Connors. That’s the name of the guy in the picture with your dad. They worked together for years and they were close. But after that night, we never saw him again. He never even called. Not once. Go figure.”

It was apparent that the man beside his dad had only had one arm under his uniform. Peter didn’t recognize him at all, but now he could put a name on the guy. That was something, right?

Taking Peter out of his train of thoughts, Ben nodded toward Peter’s wallpaper on his computer screen, which was conveniently, of course, a picture of Wade, and asked, “who’s that?”

It was one Peter had taken that Saturday. He had grabbed his camera from his desk and snapped a picture of the man as he was giving him the middle finger. The one time his uncle chose to pay attention to his electronics it had to be after he changed his wallpaper to a picture of an older guy making a crude gesture in his bedroom. _Shit…_

Peter started explaining himself but perhaps he shouldn’t have since his attempt at a justification sounded like total nonsense, even to himself. He felt his face and neck getting warmer and warmer the more he tried. The knowing smile of pity his uncle gave him didn’t help bring his temperature down in the slightest.

“Whoever it is, it’s fine, Peter, it’s fine,” Ben assured Peter in that sweet paternal voice of his, thus shutting down his nephew’s incessant gibberish at the same time. The grey-haired man got up unhurriedly from the bed and went to the door. “Now, come down. Your aunt May must be waiting for us.”

Peter awkwardly chuckled as he got up himself, taking the moment to turn off his computer screen.

“Uncle Ben,” he called out to him before they both left his room. “You’re a pretty great dad, alright?”

Ben nodded and smiled bashfully before leading them both down the stairs to the dining room where May had already set plates full of stew on the table. They were quite silent throughout most of their supper, only the one or two comments from Ben on his wife’s cooking and the usual clattering of utensils against their plates was breaking the quietness established around the room. It occurred to Peter that his aunt most likely knew about his uncle telling him about the existence of that Doctor Connors. And given the way she had tried to change subjects a few days ago when he pressed them on for answers, she was perhaps against it. Despite that, Peter couldn’t prevent his thoughts from going wild on possibilities. There must have been more to it than his uncle was letting on or undeniably more than he even knew about.

But Peter hurried back to his room soon after having impatiently taken his empty plate to the sink, eager to find out more about the enigmatic man at his father’s side, and maybe more about his dad himself, as well. The first thing he searched for was ‘Richard Parker and Curt Connors’, which lead him to some articles talking about the two scientists’ experiment with cross-species genetics. Peter didn’t linger on the ones regarding the plane crash that killed his parents, but he did come across a lot of pages concerning Dr. Connors’s unusual studies on the ‘world without weakness’ the researcher wanted to create. It seemed more like science-fiction than anything else. Was really his father involved in that man’s extreme explorations in the humankind?

It must have been close to 8 pm when the annoying sound of the doorbell downstairs started ringing some melody Peter didn’t recognize. He was momentarily tempted to run down and answer the door himself just to end the racket, but it stopped as quickly as it started. It was probably some idiot’s prank. As Peter was about to carry on with his investigation, his uncle’s voice interrupted him again. Except, this time, he heard the man screaming to him from the end of the stairs. “Peter? There’s someone here for you!”

Peter sat up straight in his chair, his back cracking painfully in the process whereas his heart started pumping rapidly in his chest. He had forgotten about Wade’s visit. He hurried down the stairs, his footsteps resonating like thunder in the small apartment until he was faced with a sight he wished he didn’t have to see so soon after first meeting the mercenary. His uncle was laughing in front of the door where an amused Wade was standing still, as remarkably handsome as every time Peter had seen him in the last three days. He could look at that face every day and it was still not enough, so it appeared.

“Isn’t he the guy on your computer?” Ben whispered to him, once he got at the two men’s level, a bit too loudly for Peter’s liking. But it didn’t matter since he directly addressed Wade next. “He’s got you on his computer!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peter mumbled, glaring pointedly at his uncle.

The short few seconds that followed was almost agonizing, only for Peter anyway, as he saw his uncle and his not-boyfriend chuckling at his expense.

“Alright, don’t stay up too late. You got school tomorrow, remember,” Ben said, finally leaving the two other men alone. Well, as alone they could be with May interestedly watching them from the kitchen and Ben choosing to lean against the stairs just some footsteps behind the 18 years old.

“Okay…”

“I love him,” Wade said once Peter had closed the glassed door behind them with an aggravating exhalation.

It was already pitch-black outside, the yellow lightbulb above them and the lampposts across the street the only reason why Peter could see Wade at all. The light breeze could still be felt on Peter’s skin through both of his shirts. Wade was wearing a dark cotton jacket on a red tee-shirt and had a greasy brown bag in his hand, his short brown hair moving slightly to the slow rhythm of the wind.

“He’s my uncle. He’s a pathological liar. He thought you were someone else.” Met only with Wade’s unconvinced look, he added, “I know _a lot_ of scary looking mercenaries in your kind.”

Wade ignored him to retort, “so, who’s the stalker now, huh?”

“Still you,” Peter replied back before pointing to the bag full of what he hoped was the fried dumplings he was promised that morning. “Why are you always bringing me food?”

Wade took one of the younger man’s arms by the wrist into his grip and wiggled it around. “You’re so skinny! You need to put some meat on those bones.”

A fly hovered in Peter’s tousled hair, just enough to tickled his nape and forced him to chase it away with his free hand. The other one was still into the other man’s grasp. However, he didn’t have enough will to break it free. The warmth of the man’s hand on him had sent such pleasant chills down his limbs that made him nearly want to let the guy wag his arm around just for the mere physical contact.

 _You’re pathetic_.

“You weren’t answering you phone! I almost eat them all to myself!” Wade had released Peter to shake the paper bag with both of his hands instead. It made a rattling noise as the food inside was being tossed around.

“Yeah… I got caught up in something.” He heard some teenagers passing by laughing on the street on their bikes. “But weren’t you at that Chinese place this morning? Are they even still good?”

“I went back, you ungrateful little ass! They owe me, now. It’s always good to have Chinese restaurants in your favor.”

“I bet,” Peter replied, burying his hands in his jeans pockets as he got somewhat of an idea. “You wanna go inside, or…”

“OH, bringing me up to your room, Petey? What are your uncle and auntie gonna say?”

“Shut up and come. Besides, I’ve got something to show you,” Peter answer back, already too determined to show Wade all the things he had just found out to engage in his friend’s teasing.

“Well, if that’s what I think it is, I’m sure I’m gonna come,” Wade re-joined as Peter was already opening the front door to the apartment.

“Gosh, I’m already regretting it…”


	7. Peter Parker The Science Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two hot messes do some investigation at Oscorp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took inspo from this post for some dialogues (it’s just too gold)  
> http://eriklehvsherr.tumblr.com/post/148835449744/sure-thing-wade
> 
> If you wanna talk about spideypool (or about anything) you can always talk to me on my tumblr (@harrytipotte)!

“Using _Bing_? I think I might be slightly less attracted to you, now.”

Peter rolled his eyes from his kneeling position on the floor. Wade was rotating slightly left and right on Peter’s computer chair not too far away from him. He hadn’t appeared to be the very least taken aback by the heap of files on Peter’s floor or by the abnormal number of tabs opened on his computer. Peter had told him everything his uncle had divulged to him and exactly what he had discovered, and what he didn’t. His aunt and uncle could be heard, through his closed door, getting ready for bed.

“It all comes back to that one: Zero, zero, decay rate algorithm. But what does it mean?”

“Don’t ask me, I never did well in science,” Wade replied offhandedly. His attention was laying on the articles he was scrolling through from his place at the teenager’s desk. “So, your dad used to work with this dude who wants to create super-humans that can’t die. Basically. Looks a bit like mad scientist shit, don’t you think?”

“I guess…”

Peter had never thought about his father as a mad scientist conducting wacky experiments. But then again, after meeting Wade, he was a lot more inclined to stop judging people purely by their line of work or by their general appearance.

“You know, we could pay him a little visit. Connors.” Wade suggested as he turned around, the little wheels of the chair sliding against the wooden floor and crushing a bit of the bag who contained not much earlier delicious fried dumplings that had the misfortune of having being discarded there by Peter.

“He still works at Oscorp. But I don’t think I could infiltrate easily. Gwen would never help on that one…” Seeing Wade’s puzzled expression, he added, “my friend works there. There’s an internship with him, but there’s no place left.”

“Fuck that. You go directly to the man’s house.”

“What? No!” Wade had raised one eyebrow at him and it had the surprising ability to annoy Peter to no end. “No, no. Nothing illegal!”

“And you think infiltrating Oscorp wouldn’t be illegal?”

“It just seems… less personal that way. I don’t want to coerce the man into telling me stuff.”

“We could only go through his shit. A lot of the time it’s those shits that will tell you more than the shit you’re actually after,” Wade explained during which he pointing around Peter’s pink jelly ruler he had found on his desk like some kind of teacher.

“I’m not after him! I… I just…”

Peter adverted looking at Wade to instead tilt his head to look at his father’s notes that rested on his knees. Maybe Wade had a point, but there must be a simpler, and _legal_ , way to go about it.

“You want to show up there, ask for Dr. Connors and expects him to show up?”

As Peter was about to acquiesce he was abruptly interrupted by Wade launching the ruler right onto his chest, cutting him short.

“Okay, okay! What do you propose, then?”

Wade’s plan wasn’t so different than Peter what had envisioned himself. Yeah, it did involve stealing an employee badge and sneaking into a guy’s office, but Peter had to remind himself who he was speaking to. Even though Wade didn’t appear like the kind of guy that could easily get passed security literally anywhere, he sure did know a lot more than him about sneaking into someone’s place. If their first encounter back at that stalker’s apartment had taught him anything, it was certainly that Wade could sneak into anyone’s bathroom.

“That’s not my best angle,” Wade pointed out as he was about to leave Peter’s room, close to 11 pm, where his computer screen was exhibiting its wallpaper.

“Don’t pretend like you have a bad angle,” Peter whispered back, careful as to not wake up his sleeping aunt and uncle. He patted the man’s scratchy cheek twice, his hand lingering a bit on that last touch, which led to him more or less stroking it. The scruffy beard felt rough against his fingers until he let them fall to his side.

“You’re not kicking me out through the window?” Wade asked, his voice sounding very low to Peter’s ears, as the both of them were still in the space between Peter’s bedroom and the dark hallway connecting Ben and May own’s room.

Peter knew Wade was referring to what had happened only two days ago when he had basically forced him out from his window at the two adults’ early arrival. But Wade was gazing at him _that_ way. The way that made his toes curled, the hair at the back of his neck stood up straight and his chest tightened painfully. The way that made it impossible for him to come out an elaborate sentence, as frustrated as it made him.

“They know you’re here,” Peter ended up saying, his voice so faint he had to repeat it twice for the taller man to understand clearly.

Before he could move or even register what the other man was doing, his jaw was grabbed by two strong hands holding it tightly as his lips were crushed by warm ones. He felt his glasses crooking sorely against his nose as he raised his own hands, but it wasn’t to straighten them. It was to put back his fingers where he wished he hadn’t dropped them from just moments earlier. Both men were mirroring each other, being as they were both trying to push the other’s face closer and closer to theirs. One of Wade’s hand had slid down to the younger man’s neck and was now grabbing and scraping gently the bit of short hair there. Peter’s own short nails were scratching the older man’s cheeks leisurely. Peter couldn’t prevent the low, yet loud in the quiet apartment, moan that escaped out of his opened mouth against Wade’s own as his tongue started tasting his with fervency. He felt hot waves hitting him all over as Wade kept deepening the kiss…

Peter didn’t know how many seconds or minutes must have passed before Wade broke their lips apart, slowly freeing his neck and face to then escape a short laugh coming deep from his throat. One rested instead on Peter’s waist, lifting slightly both layers of shirts he had on. They were both basically panting, trying to catch their breath while trying to let out as little noise as possible, the closed door only a few steps away from them the reminder Peter desperately needed to hold on to. Wade’s face was still so close to his he could feel his warm breath hitting his upper lip. Just when he was about to test his chance and ignore the nagging fact that his aunt or his uncle could come out of their room at any moment, Wade tickled with the tip of his finger the bit of his stomach he had just exposed.

“Stop that!” Peter breathlessly hissed, grabbing the man’s muscular arms away, but he was too strong. Pushing Wade away only intensified his relentless attack on him until Peter was left clutching Wade’s strong arms without much success, struggling to breathe, until he condescended to stop.

It felt very much like he was still breathless when he closed the front door of the apartment behind Wade not too long after. He could still feel the hard peck Wade had stolen from him just before he had turned to leave the home. The man’s dark figure could be seen slowly fading away through the tainted glass where the yellow lightbulb was still turned on. Peter reached out to turn it off, passing a hand through his face and hair as if it could help diffuse the tension in his entire body.

_I need a shower._

 

+++

 

“Hey, do I look shady to you?”

Wade had barged into the bar, the door slamming shut loudly behind him. Most of the people inside the place hadn’t even batted an eyelash at his big entrance. Not even Weasel had turned toward him when he addressed him directly. Wade was left staring at the guy for a good five minutes before he deigned to give his attention to him. He technically was busy with exchanging some other mercenary the money for his hit, but that wasn’t important. It was the day he and Peter had settle for their little visit to Oscorp and he couldn’t let himself be late or unprepared because of Weasel’s irrelevant business.

Weasel was still not looking directly at Wade when he questioned him, “off to your boyfriend again? Boytoy? Boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Wade replied, sitting down behind the counter feeling suddenly somewhat dejected.

“You didn’t get invited to prom, then?”

He heard some tall guy giggling on the stool beside him and didn’t forget to give him a dirty look before retorting back to the unpleasant bartender, “as a matter of fact, no. What makes you think I even want to be Peter’s boyfriend, anyway?”

How could he expect Weasel to believe that if he couldn’t even believe himself? For all he knew, there was still a possibility Peter wasn’t interest in anything serious. With _him_ , anyway. Besides, they had known each other for barely two weeks. But how come Wade felt so utterly invested in him, already? He had barely been able to do his job or eat properly since meeting the guy. It was like he had gone back to high school, all of the sudden, but with all of the shitty stuff out. They were replaced by stupid butterflies in his tummy and him glancing up at his phone every twenty seconds in the hope of finding one of Peter’s saving text there.

Sure, Peter was a total nerd like Wade had ever seen but wasn’t a good-looking dude like him involved with someone else already or, at the very least, sleeping around? He sure as hell did when he was his age. The thought sent unpleasant chills down his spine and caused the many bottles of drinks behind Weasel to appear incredibly more tempting all of the sudden if only to knock himself out.

“Uh, maybe the fact that the only thing you’ve been talking about for the last week and a half had been: _Peter_ , what you do with Peter, how is Peter, what’s going on with Peter, Peter’s ass, Peter’s hair, Peter’s…”

Wade’s interrupted Weasel’s emotionless enumeration before too many of the mercenaries minding their own business around them had the chance of doing the exact opposite, “yeah, so?”

“Thought you might had put your name all over it, or something, by now. Bet you haven’t even batter-dipped the corn dog, yet.” Weasel locked eyes with Wade for two seconds and apparently it was all it took for him to conclude, “oh… So, you really are getting soft, then. Get it?”

“I don’t want to be Peter’s boyfriend!”

For some reason, sat there on one uncomfortable stool with Weasel stupid look on him, he couldn’t help but act on the part of him that wanted to defend his reputation as a heartless merc. If such reputation even existed in the first place, anyway.

“The fuck you’re talking about? You told me, like what, Monday, that you already planned Jeremy-the-stalker to officialize you guys’ wedding.”

“I was drunk, you can’t use that against me!”

“What do you want from the kid, then?”

For someone who claimed not to care about Wade’s life, Weasel sure did have a lot of questions. _He needs to get a life._

“I don’t know! I just want to be with him. All the time. It’s not even about sex, it’s so confusing. I’ve not seen him in four days and I already feel like I’m losing my fucking mind!” Wade’s arms were flailing around, one almost hitting the tall mercenary beside him in the face. He felt himself getting red in the face and his hair under his cap getting damp with sweat. “But I don’t want to be his stupid boyfriend!”

Weasel was looking at him like he was the stupidest person he had ever laid eyes on. Which wasn’t that uncommon but was still fairly insulting since he had just spilled his heart out to him. At least the feeling was mutual on that one, that was for sure.

_“Ti amo, In sogno, Ti amo, In aria, Ti amo…”_

“Fuck!”

Wade had already jumped off his seat and turned away from Weasel before he could catch sight of the bartender rolling his eyes at him and telling just about how nuts he was to some others guys sat behind the counter. He was too busy rushing out the door as Peter’s voice could be heard on the other side of his phone. “Where are you, I’m there!”

“You’re there?”

“Yeah, I am!” Peter waited for Wade to finish wailing at a taxi before he continued faint-heartedly, “you don’t have to help if you want, I can do it alone.”

“No, no! Wait here, baby, I’m coming!” Wade loudly replied, shutting vigorously the car’s yellow door behind him.

 

+++

 

Peter had to raise his head high to see the extent of the Oscorp tower. It must have been more than a decade since he had last visited it. There was that one time he couldn’t remember too clearly, like the others, where his dad had brought him to his work. It was also at that particular time where he had first met Harry if he wasn’t mistaken, him too having being brought there by his father. The only few things he could recall from those visits all involved his dad’s absence elsewhere while Peter had to stay with some other children, like Harry, in the kids’ playroom.

The sun was reflecting on the shiny long surface of the building, blinding Peter the longer he tried to look up at it. It was particularly warm outside for the day before Halloween, but Peter was holding his jacket around him like a safety blanket. He could feel the sweat gathering on his forehead and down his shirt. He kept meddling with his glasses as he waited for Wade to arrive and set their plan in motion. The fact that Wade would be there did nothing to appease his nervousness, but maybe only increased it. But then again, Peter was kind of glad to have the man helping him on this.

He heard Wade’s voice coming from right behind him while a hand grabbed the back of his vest, jolting him a little. “Hullo!”

“Shhh… geez!”

Wade went around to face Peter and flicked his nose, stating in his best baby voice, “so cute.”

Despite the annoyance he felt, Peter couldn’t help his limbs from basically melt at the sight of the other man. His arms fell at his sides, the grip he previously had on his jacket gone. Those four days had felt way too long and weirdly wrong, for some reason, without having Wade in the corner of his bedroom shooting nonsense.

“Fuck you, man,” Peter said in what he hoped was a firm tone, but he didn’t sound really that convincing.

“Gosh, Pete, we don’t have time for that.” Peter saw Wade then turning away from him to face the tall tower, clapping his hands together to rub them exuberantly. “Now, let’s conquer the beast.”

“Wait,” Peter called out to Wade before he could even get one step closer to the building, grabbing him by his naked arm. “You’re really going in there like that?”

“Like what? I dressed for the circumstance.”

“Dude, you’re literally wearing the same clothes I saw you in last.”

“I put on my best pants!”

It appeared that Wade’s best pair of jeans was one that had minimal holes in it. Compared to the other one Peter had seen him wear, at least. and the same blue tee he had worn that Monday night back at Peter’s place four days ago. Minus the many crumbs of the fried dumplings that he had managed to get there, thank goodness. The only major difference was that he was sporting a colorful cap on his head that Peter had never seen him wear before, and frankly would’ve remembered.

Since then, they had only sent back and fort the usual texts to each other. Peter had been trying his very best, which still hadn’t exactly been the best he could have given, to catch up with all of the work he had put aside that last weekend and especially on that dreadful Friday where he had slept through, he had been lucky he had gym class, most of his classes. And for him, he had gotten way too far behind to be comfortable with it.

“I can’t imagine you ever being _discreet_. Especially in that thing.”

“Hidden in plain sight, Petey, hidden in plain sight,” Wade explained, a finger tapping his temple as if he was telling him the wisest of information. Peter had to muster every strength in him not to burst out laughing in the other man’s face.

“Pfft, let’s go…”

They were about to enter side by side the imposing building when Peter heard the older man speak to him again, “it’s nice to see you, by the way.”

Peter was suddenly brought back to the last time he had been in the older man’s presence. It sent a weird sensation to his tummy as he remembered maybe a little too clearly the way Wade had kissed him in that dark hallway near his bedroom way too many days ago, it felt like, anyway.

Wade was opening the door for him when Peter replied as best as he could, “yeah, me too, huh, you too.”

Once they were inside, they were met with a flood of people going up and down the many escalators. Peter was fiddling with the hem of his jacket at the sight of the numerous stern looking security guards and the woman looking at them incuriously from her seat at her desk. But before he could even start to worry about any of these people, Wade was already leading them towards the lady and more particularly to the badges distributed neatly on her reception desk.

“Hi!” Wade greeted her before he picked out one of the badges for the interns. He was about to pin it to his shirt when Peter arrived behind him with hesitancy. “Here, Stephen.”

“Huh… yeah?” Wade was handing him another badge oh so nonchalantly where the name ‘Stephen Moran’ was written on it. Luckily for them, their badges didn’t include a picture to go with their pretend name. “Thanks.”

“Welcome, Mr. Guevara and Mr. Moran,” the woman greeted them, glancing at both of their badges now stuck to their shirt.

“Gracias señora!” Wade replied to her in what Peter thought was a pretty decent Spanish accent.

“De nada.”

It was only when the two of them were going up shoulder to shoulder on one of the impressively long escalators that Peter felt it was safe for him to speak to his companion again. “So, um… _Rodrigo_ , what do we do now?”

There were giant screens everywhere, most of them depicting Norman Osborn’s success and Oscorp’s many accomplishments and specificities. It was surprisingly not difficult to hear the woman voice coming from the speaker enumerating said information over the jabber from the ton of people walking around inside of the vast building.

“We go to that stupid internship.”

“When you said we were gonna borrow someone else’s badge, I didn’t think you meant one for the intern.”

Wade shrugged, his right shoulder brushing against Peter’s, and replied, “I saw them and I improvised.”

“What do you mean you improvised?” Peter looked briefly to see the two men on the escalator behind them and lower his voice until only Wade could hear him vehemently whisper, “we’re a team here, you gotta communicate.”

“Calm down, sexy pants. We’re not robbing a bank, here. It’s gonna be fine, trust me,” Wade assured him as both he and Peter set foot on the second floor where they were forced to blend in with the many other and _real_ interns waiting there.

The vast majority happened to be young boys and girls alike Peter himself and he had to wonder how Wade could keep such a calm composure among the small crowd as they joined them from a certain distance. Maybe he was a little biased but nobody could deny the fact that the man was so dissimilar from the other interns. He basically looked like every one of those students’ worst nightmare, as his muscular figure and cap made him look like a total jock compared to all the nerdy people around him. Most of them were carrying notebooks and pens as their eyes were avidly roaming the room. He could clearly see now how Gwen could fit perfectly in that place.

_Wait, wouldn’t she be the one…_

“But Wade, I think…” the younger man trailed off seeing that he was interrupted by his suspicions coming to fruition.

“I’m Gwen Stacy, a senior at Midtown Science and head intern to Dr. Connors,” Peter heard a very familiar voice say to the crowd as they fell instantly silent. He could barely see the top of her blonde head over the ones of the teenagers standing in front of him. “I’ll be with you for the duration of your visit. Where I go, you go. That’s the rule, remember that and all will be fine.”

Since Peter and Wade were at the far back of the group, they beheld every one of the interns’ heads turning in unison to the left where the cries of two men could be heard from the first floor. From what Peter could gather, and from Wade’s chuckle, the real Rodrigo, as well as the real Stephen, had been arrested by security. One of Peter’s hand raised up to his face, both in shame and fear of being spotted by his friend while the sniggering from the man beside him echoed louder.

“I guess I don’t need to tell you what happens if you forget,” he, with all of the others, overheard Gwen warning them. “Shall we?”

Keeping a good two meters of distance between them and the group of interns, Peter and Wade followed them to a much brighter and quiet room where scientists were seen working on tech at their overrun desks.

“Come around this way.”

He murmured to Wade’s left ear, careful not to be heard nor been seen by Gwen, “she’s the friend, Gwen, I told you about. The one that works here.”

“Oh. Then, we shall use it to our advantage.”

“You know, you really sound like a criminal when you say stuff like that.”

Wade gave him a slap to his ass that was enough to unbalance Peter and a quick reply, “you love it.”

The 18 years old shook his head in quiet disbelief at the man. Still, he had to admit it was quite funny. However, that distraction meant he hadn’t realized the presence of the man standing beside Gwen in front of everyone until he took his eyes of Wade and ultimately got a sight of Dr. Connors. He had learned to be familiar with the man’s appearance in the last two weeks and he could safely say the man hadn’t changed much from the photograph he had found in his dad’s briefcase. Maybe only a bit more tired. Peter couldn’t stop himself from looking at the scientist in awe as he talked to the whole group about his condition and how he wanted to rectify it.

“I want to create a world without weakness. Anyone care to venture a guess just how?”

Peter heard Wade snorting loudly with skepticism behind him and mumbling something about the man’s missing limb all while one of the intern wrongly answered to Connors’s question. The man was waiting for a more radical answer. Maybe Peter had the answer the scientist wanted… If truth be told, he had taken a greater amount of time inside his father’s files than in his homework in the last week.

“No one?”

“Cross-species genetics,” Peter answered out loud. He almost regretted it when the crowd dispersed itself to reveal him to both Dr. Connors and Gwen. The latter appeared so surprised to see him there that her eyes grew nearly two sizes bigger. She didn’t even have to look down at her list to know he didn’t belong there. “Person gets Parkinson’s when the brain cells that produce dopamine start to disappear. But a zebrafish has the ability to regenerate cells on command. If you could give this ability to the woman you’re talking about, that’s that. She’s… she’s curing herself.”

“Hope she likes her new fishtail, though,” Wade interjected, originating a very few chuckles coming from the group.

“And you are…”

Gwen answered for him, her lips tightly pressed together in the replica of a smile, “he’s one of Midtown Science’s best and brightest… sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Second in his class.”

“Second?” Peter retorted, looking straight at his friend’s look of confrontation.

“Yeah.”

He couldn’t really argue with that. The scientist made his goodbye to Gwen and the troop, which gave the opportunity to Peter to elbow Wade in the ribs, him who had been laughing a bit too much during all of his broadcasted interaction with Gwen. When it only managed to multiple the man’s hilarity at his expense, he instead took his arm and began to drag him as fast as he could away from the other interns now busy with a hologram. They didn’t get very far, however, as they were quickly stopped. The high heels thumping the floor behind them had served as a pretty alert of that happening.

“What are you doing here, _Peter_?” Gwen had emphasized significantly on his name, her hands so tightly closed on her clipboard and looking at him with some much emphasis he wondered if the security had already been called.

“I- I wanted to see Dr. Connors,” Peter whispered to her urgently. He had taken a step closer to her as if it would help her understand the desperation in his voice better. “He was a friend of my dad’s, Gwen. They used to work together!”

“Peter…” she started off, sympathy in her eyes. But that was until they met with Wade’s over Peter’s shoulder. “Was it his idea?”

Peter cringed as Wade replied to the girl, tipping his hat to her, “technically yes, mam.”

“You’re a criminal,” Gwen retorted dryly to the older man, her stance as straight and important as it was when she was taking on her role as the head intern in front of the others.

The mercenary glanced at him with a knowing smirk. “So, I’m guessing you’ve heard of me?”

Gwen ignored the merc now grinning at her in honor to face the other 18 years old again to instruct to him firmly, “we’ll talk about this. Do not get me in trouble. And stay with the group. Or I’m calling security on him.”

“We won’t!” Wade answered her instead, grabbing Peter’s shoulder, handling him away from his blonde friend. Who, speaking of which, looked incredibly frustrated and maybe even shocked at Peter when she walked back to the group of interns. He had hardly been able to give her an apologetic look before she had turned away from them. God knew he would never hear the end of that.

“She doesn’t like me. Guess you can’t please everyone,” Wade concluded, his arm around the smaller man, the visor of his cap hitting Peter in the forehead.

He freed himself from the merc, glancing at where Gwen and the students were headed and walked backward in the opposite direction. “Let’s do what we are here for, now, plea-.”

A guy’s shoulder had made abrupt contact with his, the small file in the business man’s hand dropping right on Peter’s foot.

“Sorry. Yo.” Picking up the black folder from his shoe, Peter noticed something strange at the corner of one of the papers contained inside of it. “Sorry.”

He could see Wade’s eyebrows, as well as he did with his own, raising at the harsh way the man in the suit took back his fallen item from the teenager’s hand without a single word. None of the many people working all around them had noticed the incident.

“He had the same weird symbols in his file than my dad’s.”

“How convenient! I say let’s follow that sketchy fella.”

Peter could only nod, following closely behind his companion who was already tailing their subject of interest. Wade appeared to be enjoying himself way too much following the mysterious man down impressive looking halls, especially when he leaned down slightly to quietly whisper into Peter’s ear, “do you think we’ll have to do that thing when two people who don’t wanna be seen kiss so they don’t get noticed?” But they quickly had to stop in their track after that, since the guy they were following was entering a code on an advanced piece of technology. The door he had entered from appeared to be more isolated from the other ones on that same floor. The plate beside it featured the same enigmatic symbols where the words ‘Biocable Development Unit’ were written beside it. Fortunately, they had kept hidden long enough to see the suited man come back out with two other men dressed from head to toe in protection uniforms.

“Did you get it?” Wade asked him quietly about the code from their hidden position behind a wall.

“Of course, I did. You?”

“Yeah.”

When they couldn’t hear the three men anymore, the both of them walked carefully toward the locked door, a code ready to be typed.

“After you,” Wade spoke softly, extending his arms like he had done the few times they were about to share a taxi. Something was telling Peter that the merc hadn’t really gotten all of the code.

Peter rolled his eyes affectionately at him before performing what the machine agreed was a good match of what he had seen the guy in the suit do since it chimed, approving him the access.

“After you,” he chanted, proudly mimicking Wade’s previous action.

They were surprised, quite pleasantly at that, about the fact that they were met with nobody inside. Not only they were met with nobody, but they were left in front of machines, set behind protectives glass, performing experiments Peter had never seen being done before. Everything seemed so clean and quiet and bright. Protection suits, like the ones the two other men that had come out of that room moments before were wearing, were aligned on a wall beside a weary-looking door that read ‘Restricted Access’ on it. Beside its glassed door could be seen a dark blue light in which was bathing the whole room. Some machinery was moving inside of it, but he couldn’t really what exactly was going on in there. Of course, that was where Peter’s mind wanted him to explore first.

Wade was eying a machine expanding some matter with its multiple arms, two inches away from the window protecting it. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, that,” Peter murmured toward the other man’s general direction.

“I wanna touch everything.”

“Well, don’t,” he distractedly warned Wade, himself transfixed by their finding.

Peter approached the restricted access door. There was no one inside, from what he could tell. He didn’t really expect it to open this easily, but it did.

“You’re really going in there?” Wade’s voice sounded muffled all of the sudden. The door had closed on its own behind Peter. While he could have opened it as well, Wade was looking at him through the glass, his hands cupping his face on it. “Okay, Pete, I’m gonna look for anything else.”

Peter nodded at him but was quickly too fascinated by what was in front of him to really pay attention. There was something really odd about the whole atmosphere in the room. He was inside what looked to be rotating walls of, could it be, spiderwebs connected by metal bars? Except, it was too tick to be made of ordinary spiderwebs. It seemed to have come out of the imposing machine hanging above it, rotating in a circular motion as well, rather than being originated from the actual spiders crawling on it. There was indeed a countless number of translucid looking, reflecting on the blue light in the room, spiders that were leisurely moving all over those walls, none touching the other.

He didn’t follow his own advice and touched with the tip of his finger one of the strings of the peculiar spiderwebs as it passed in front of him. It resulted in the whole process around him to stop to a halt altogether, as well as stopping Peter’s heart cold in his chest. Petrified, he was about to call out for Wade when he watched in horror the spiders falling out from their nest, some landing on Peter himself. His hair and vest had no choice but to greet arachnids after arachnids that land there from their peaceful place on the formerly spinning walls.

_Shit, shit, shit…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might be posting bi-weekly for now on since the PLOT IS THICKENING ;)
> 
> Does anyone have a few million I could borrow to make this movie?


	8. Those sweaty teens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck is going on with Petey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a fun little chapter!

There was nothing much new to see from what he and Peter had already taken a glimpse at while first entering that confidential part of the building. Only more complicated machines behind protection windows executing what they were created for, which the mercenary had no clue what those tasks exactly were, no matter how long he stared at them, were on his path. He hoped Peter would find something. The guy sure did look like he needed that, given how desperate he had been for that little Oscorp exploration. It sure did seem like Peter would have less difficulty with finding the information he needed, having a scientist as a dad and being a nerd and all of that. Without a doubt, he had inherited some of those smart genes, that much Wade could tell.

_Too bad all I could get from dad was his bad temper and his sadistic tendencies. To each their own, I guess._

Wade was about to turn another corner when he heard a huge bang coming from the end of the hallway, practically making him jump off his feet. From what he could tell, it was probably just a door and not some kind of alarm or weapon, but it still had a way to unnerve the merc. The fact that he didn’t know anything about those freaky robots they were keeping in there made him feel uneasy. Guns? Bring it on. Grenades? Okay, fine. Knives? Alright. But weird science shits? Hell no.

He stopped to listen for more to make sure anyone wasn’t coming his way, surprised when he didn’t hear anything else. He didn’t want to have to use the dagger secured inside one of his pants legs, but if he had to, he would. Was Peter still in that blue room? Maybe it had been him who had slammed that door. Wade was about to turn on his heels to find out when he heard a groan of pain and his name being called out from where he knew Peter would be. His voice sounded shaky, almost like he was out of breath, which only made Wade the more frantic to get back to him.

“Pete?”

Wade turned a corner only to see a lone Peter frantically ruffling his hair like he was searching for something hidden in there.

“What, you didn’t think you looked scruffy enough? You’ll need to learn how to grow a beard first, for that,” Wade told the younger man once he got to him near the door where the gloomy blue light inside was still very much existent. When Peter didn’t show any sign of stopping, Wade enquired with a bit of worry and _a lot_ of confusion, “what happened?”

“There are spiders everywhere in there!”

Peter’s voice was so high-pitched it sounded maybe ten times higher than it originally was. Wade had never seen the teenager so agitated. Not even when he had seen him nervously pacing in front of the Oscorp tower before joining him. It was perhaps comparable, though, to the way he had been acting back when Wade had threatened that stalker right in front of him. But he was a bit more vocal this time around. Probably because now he knew by now there was no way in hell Wade was going to kill him. At least he hoped Peter knew that…

“The hell?”

“They’re keeping them in this kind of… faux spiderwebs just rotating around the room! Their consistency was not sticky enough not to have been modified and created in one of their laboratories,” Peter said in a single breath. He had stopped fiddling with his hair but was now rubbing the back of his neck, a puzzled expression on his face. Wade was getting itchy now too simply by listening and looking at him.

“Sounds like a nightmare to me.” Wade stayed silent for about five seconds, looking at the smaller man straight in the eyes, and then questioned him smugly, “what did you say about not touching anything, again?”

“I grazed one web!” Peter quickly justified himself.

“Yeah, yeah…” Wade was aware of how hesitant he sounded when he suggested to Peter, “we should probably go. Did you find what we came here for?”

Peter sounded slightly resentful when he replied, “I saw enough.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you might have gotten probed, or something gross like that, in there,” Wade joked as they were retracing their steps back to the moving staircases. He could tell something was preoccupying Peter. When the other didn’t get any sign from the young adult, Wade pointed behind them with his thumb and asked, “what the hell do you think they are doing? Shame you only found spiders.”

“I’ve got some ideas…”

“Well, mine has two words: spider sex.”

Just as they were sneaking past the room where the real interns still very much were, they were accosted by an infuriated looking Gwen having parted ways from the group as she noticed them. She pulled Peter by the arm when they had no choice but to get closer to her. The eyes on that lady were just too powerful not to oblige, Wade remarked.

Wade could only watch from afar as Peter was walking a few steps away from him to apparently get a scolding from the lady and judging by the many glances both of the 18 years old were shooting at him, he was positive he was a huge part of that conversation. The mercenary didn’t know what to do with his arms so he simply greeted everyone that came his way, getting only a lot of weird looks, until Peter came back, the guy’s shoulders a bit lower than they were before speaking to the young woman.

“I’m hungry, wanna grab something?”

“Okay, yeah. Yeah.”

Peter appeared to be now as eager to leave the building as much as Wade was.

 

+++

 

They took one of the less crowded parts of the train, which only meant they were able to grab a seat on a long bench for the both of them. Their arms were tightly pressed together as Peter was trying not to touch the seventy years old man crouching on the seat beside him. They had a relatively long ride ahead of them seeing as Wade was so set on showing Peter that Chinese restaurant where he had to put down one piece of shit with a capital S earlier that week. No more coffee shop and hipster bullshit. You couldn’t blame him for thinking Peter would be the kind of guy to go to those kinds of place with his friends to write poetry and shit. Although now Wade was pretty sure Peter was as likely to write a poem as he was to become a vicious mercenary. He simply wasn’t the most eloquent of man, that was all. Hell, Wade couldn’t say he was particularly better.

Peter’s neck and forehead were glistening with sweat when Wade looked over at him, the heat practically radiating off him.

“Woah! Hello, puberty… why are you sweating so much?”

“I don’t know…” Peter replied quietly, passing a hand through his hair.

“Wanna get out of that thing?” Wade pointed out the vest he still had on over his two other shirts.

Peter complied, taking his coat of only for Wade to take it out of his hands to put it over his own shoulders. He tied the sleeves around his neck like some weirdos would do with a cape while the rest was crushed between his back and the window behind him.

There were another stop and the old couple sitting beside Peter slowly walked off the train, leaving room for him to slide away from Wade a bit. In contrary to everything the man had expected, Peter lowered himself into the older man’s lap. His bushy head was soon resting face up and eyes closed on top of both of Wade’s thighs while his body was sluggishly laying, knees up not to disturb the lady sitting there, on the two-peoples-sized gap between him and her. Peter didn’t seem to have noticed Wade’s lack of breathing and sudden stillness with both of the man’s hands frozen in the air above him. One finally settled on Peter’s shoulder while the other one rested tentatively in his hair.

“Are you okay?”

He looked almost fragile. More than usual, anyway. Like one abrupt move from Wade would cut him in half. The merc was too afraid to move his fingers against Peter’s short locks in fear of it actually happening. He could see parts of their reflection on the window in front of them between the figures of the few people in standing there.

“I’m tired.”

“I suppose infiltrating a top-secret scientists lair would tire out a little guy like you. That and getting yelled at by a hell of an intimidating lady.”

“I guess so.”

Wade didn’t wait until the man on his lap had finished letting out his last word to ask the question he had been dying to know the answer of probably since Peter had first mentioned the name of his friend, really. “Did you and Gwen ever date?”

“Yeah, back in tenth grade. Why?”

Wade shrugged and simply responded, “I have to test the water before jumping in, that’s all.”

Wade looked down to see Peter barely moving his lips to mumble, “I thought you had already jumped in.”

“I’m balls deep, baby.”

“Why does everything you say always makes no… darn… sense…” Peter trailed off, his words jumbled.

“Yet, look who’s not making sense, right now,” Wade replied, amused, but Peter had only just now, to his genuine surprise, fallen asleep for good on his lap.

His breathing had gotten slow and steady, coming out from his barely parted lips while both hands on his belly were leisurely going up and down in sync with it. Despite that, his damp eyebrows were in kind of a frown. _That’s normal, right? Teenagers do that all the time. Peter said he could fall asleep anywhere. Glad it’s on me. But does he always sweat like this?_ Or did something happened that Peter wasn’t telling him about?

“Pete?” Wade tentatively whispered as the hand that rested on the other man’s shoulder budging a tad. He felt the soft skin of Peter’s neck brushing lightly against his pinky. “You’re alright, bud-”

Before Wade could have a chance to even realize what was happening, Peter was no longer laying on the bench with him. He hadn’t even rolled down on the floor of the train, in fact, he had done the exact opposite. His eyes had opened wide and in a fraction of seconds, in front of the disbelieving eyes of Wade and everyone else in the train with them, he was glued to the ceiling above them. One girl who had previously been leaning tiredly on the metallic pole jumped so far away from it she ended up tripping on a seat. Wade had hopped off of his own, looking up with his mouth so wide opened he wouldn’t have been surprised to see his soul jumped out of it like in that one goddamn awful live-action Scooby-doo movie.

Peter’s hands weren’t even clutching to the ceiling, as if he could, anyway, what with the lack of anything to grab and his obvious lack of upper body strength. Well, that was what the merc thought about him until he saw the guy climbing the train like some kind of _Circle du Soleil…_ person. Although it wasn’t long until Peter dropped back down on his ass with one damn confused look on his face with the head of the tenth or so people surrounding him, most of them in a heap against the door, following his every movement. Wade couldn’t tell if they were more scared or amazed. A little bit of both, he supposed, which was close to what he what feeling himself. With a bit of arousal sprinkled in the mix.

Wade, basically pinned into place, let out in a screech, “how did you do that? You didn’t tell me you could do that!”

But Peter didn’t answer. Instead, he came back up on his feet so fast it made the other passengers, including Wade, back away a little from the teenager.

“I- I’m…” Peter shook his head as he grasped the metal bar behind him. “I don’t…”

For a reason Peter himself seemed to ignore, the 18 years old appeared to be struggling with the pole as if some kind of super glue had been applied to it before he had leaned on it. He handed up pulling it so hard it uncannily broke free into Peter’s hand, letting it fly around the compartment. Wade ducked away before the pole could punch him in right the face, grateful for once for all of the times he had to duck away from something someone was shoving at him. The two other men in its direction weren’t so quick, though. Both of them received a good blow to their cheek, leaving one on the ground and the other one stumbling on his feet onto someone else.

“What the fuck!” both Wade and another person nearside yelled out in unison while Peter kept apologizing profusely to the wounded guys he had clearly pissed off.

The bar finally dropped down to the ground in a loud metallic sound. It rolled up to the guy on the floor. His face was red from rage and from his injury when he picked it up, looking straight at Peter, who was too busy staring perplexed at his hands. Before Wade could take a step forward to block Peter from the fuming man like he had planned to, Peter had already taken the pole from him and had shoved the man across the train back on his ass under the exclamations of terror from the other passengers.

“Didn’t know we were doing that. Alright!” Wade exclaimed, quite impressed and ready to push someone too if it came to it again or not.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m so sorry!”

The train was slowing down, knocking many off-balance. Wade walked carefully to Peter. The young man’s greasy hair was stuck to his forehead, his vest still around Wade’s neck but the tee under his shirt visibly damp. Peter took Wade’s biceps, his fingers digging in the muscles painfully, while the look he gave Wade was full of question the older man couldn’t possibly answer. The doors opened and Wade and Peter were running out of the subway before the offended passenger could come back to his feet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this while watching Spiderman 2, ironically enough #funfacts


	9. One special fugitive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a dead spider and a distraught teenager in Wade’s living room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the nice comments, I live and breathe for this damn fic so it’s really nice ❤️

Peter was running a bit too fast for Wade to keep up and was out on the street before the mercenary had taken more than two steps up the stairs himself. He couldn’t see him anymore and while that only lasted for approximately six seconds, it made Wade’s heart tightened uneasily in his chest as his feet hastened their pace. Not that he was necessarily worried the teenager would ‘accidentally’ beat up some random dudes again, which, Wade had to admit, had quickly been added to his jerk off bank, but he preferred to be keeping a close eye on him just in case. Peter could say whatever he wanted, what happened in the subway wasn’t normal. Something was telling Wade the 18 years old had never been the athletic kind before. Especially the kind who could rip off a metal bar from a moving train with his bare hands. The guy was lanky at best. A hot lanky, but still.

“What the heck! What the heck!” Peter was mouthing once Wade got to him, his back leaning on a dirty and heavily graffitied telephone booth. He gave more the impression of being on the verge of panic rather than out of breath like Wade was just by keeping up with him.

“You’re lucky if nobody already called the police,” Wade said to him, half joking. But really, they should probably get out of that general area before he got arrested for breaking properties and for hitting people in the face with a pole. What would Wade say to that aunt May of his if that was to happen? Not that it wouldn’t be easy for Wade to take up the bait if he needed to, anyway. _Even I would arrest myself before even considering arresting doe eyes Bambi over here._

“God, you’re right.”

“My place is not that far away.” They had ended up only one station away from their initial stop. Screw the Chinese restaurant and their god-like fried dumplings. “You’re not the first fugitive I’ll be hiding there.”

Peter was silent the whole way there. His head was hanging low as he followed the other man’s fast pace easily, jumping in some instances at cars honking in the traffic or dogs barking on the street. There was even that one time where he was so heavily startled by a young woman riding on her bicycle between the people on the sidewalk that he jerked so far away from her and so quickly that Wade had to take a moment to find out where the guy went. He had found him by a store’s front door, looking particularly crazy with his eyes wide and looking in every direction. It made Wade seriously consider for the first time the possibility of drugs being involved. Had someone drugged Peter at the lab and he couldn’t remember? Or did worst things to him? Or had he simply taken something and not said something to Wade about it?

Wade’s neighborhood wasn’t the best one, but not the worst either. It could be compared to the ones Peter had said he would ride his piteous bike around to deliver pizza to in the middle of the night before Wade got him fired. The merc could understand why the guy’s aunt had apparently been so glad that he was. _I deserve a massive thank you._ Anyway, Wade’s didn’t have an alarming rate of murders per day but you could be damn sure there was a shit load of drug deals and muggings being carried out. With a murder or two to mix things up, tops.

Wade was unlocking the door to his apartment when he asked the quiet man behind him, “so… are you gonna explain to me why you did… all of that that you did?”

His apartment was a bit of a hoarder. It was just one big room full of his shits, basically, and not really how he would’ve wanted it to look like for Peter’s first visit. In Wade’s mind, when it was going to happen, Peter would’ve been too turned on and in the heat of passion to notice the disaster that was his place. Either way, his bed was, first of all, covered with the clothes he had tried on before going straight to Weasel for his opinion, which had unsurprisingly turned out to be useless like the bartender was himself. He could see the usual flies hovering over the pile of empty food containers that kept on growing beside his kitchen’s table. He had named all of them after the _Golden Girls_ , even though there were more than four, on one hell of a lonely Saturday night. Not his fault if he had gotten too attached to the six Dorothy’s flying around his room to pick up his trash.

Not that Peter was taking a particularly great look at the apartment now given that he still appeared to be too in his own head to comment on anything. He was sweating even more profusely if that was remotely possible from when he had briefly fallen asleep on him in the subway. His entire mop of hair was greasy and falling in his eyes while the fabric of his tee-shirt was now glued to his defined chest. Wade stand there as he watched Peter sat his stiff body on his beaten-up couch between the cardboard and boxes full of his vinyl leaning on it. It was not exactly the way Wade would’ve wanted a sweaty Peter to take a seat on one of his furniture, but he would have to take it. _I would have preferably been the furniture_ , he thought bitterly.

When Peter still wasn’t giving no sign to Wade of actually answering his question, the older man pressed further, “what the fuck got into you back there? I always knew – hoped there was some kind of a dark side hidden under there, but…”

“I think one of the spiders bit me,” Peter finally opened his mouth to speak, but the information hadn’t quite reached Wade’s brain right away like the teenager had clearly hoped it would.

“What?”

“I felt a sting on my neck. Maybe one crawled down there when everything stopped and they all came falling down in that blue room,” Peter supposed, slightly agitated, his right hand searching for something down the back of his shirt.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“Didn’t think it was going to matter! I hoped it wouldn’t.”

“And I left him alone there…” Wade thought out loud, so quietly that the only way Peter could’ve possibly heard him would’ve been if he had been standing right next to him, which he wasn’t.

“You think you could have made a difference back there when there were dozens of spiders falling from the ceiling?” Peter asked, but his tone was way too skeptical to have it meant to be a legitimate question aimed at the other man.

“Yeah!” Wade answered him anyway, taking a few steps closer to Peter and the couch. “First of all, I would kill every spider for you, baby doll. You just gotta call. And second, you’re sure you’re not on drugs?”

Peter left the question unanswered to instead get up from the couch and go straight to Wade, who’s feet stumbled backward at the suddenness of it.

“What are you…”

The 18 years old had untied his own vest from around Wade’s neck and was shaking it above the floor until the both of them went completely still, their eyes now locked to the bit of carpet between the two of them. From the first shake, a dead spider had instantaneously fallen from the jacket down to the ground between Wade and Peter’s feet, a lengthy web still connected to its corpse. It had that weird color to it. While its legs appeared almost entirely translucid, the rest of its body had, from what Wade could see from its inert position on his brown carpet, kind of a shiny dark blue tint like he had never seen on a spider before. Wade rubbed his nape uneasily as he looked at it, a grimace of disgust on his face. Peter was doing the same himself, but with a lot more discomfort as he seemed to be touching the place where he thought the arachnid had bit into him.

“Let me see…” Wade circled around the small creature on his carpet and gently grabbed Peter’s left shoulder to inspect the back of his neck, but he didn’t dare touch it. There was, indeed, a mark there and it wasn’t the subtle kind either. You could discern exactly where the spider had dug its fangs into and that it had taken a bit of flesh with it. The skin was swollen and had taken a deep red color, almost purple. Wade cringed, this time, in both disgust and pain for the teenager as he looked away to eye the jacket Peter had thrown aside on the couch. “Remind me to never take anything from you ever again.”

Peter ended up holding the arachnid up close to his face by its web. The mercenary had to repress a laugh at the odd sight of Peter having a dead spider swinging in front of his glasses, his face contorted in a perfect mix of confusion and curiosity, in the middle of his living room. _I love a good old_ _Friday night._ If Wade’s place had some of those small lab kit or something, he was about certain that Peter would’ve already been trying to analyze the shit out that thing.

Nothing more than a minute must have passed when Wade broke the silence that had been established around the room to question the pondering 18 years old, “what do you think they did to it?”

Peter hadn’t taken his eyes off the spider hanging in front of his face but didn’t wait a second before reacting to the other man’s question. “All those people in protection suits must be going to town with genetics and mixing DNAs. Some of the robots we saw must have been programmed to genetically engineer… somethings. Maybe hybrids? That’s what Connors, and my dad, seem to think, anyway. You heard him in front of the interns.”

“What, like mutated spiders?”

Peter surprised him by looking back at him straight in the eye with an expression so humorless Wade felt obliged to seriously consider what he thought was this insane possibility. “Exactly, yeah.”

“Freaky. Don’t touch that,” Wade declared as he took the spider out of Peter’s hand and reluctantly put it down on his kitchen table, its eight legs up in the air in a grotesque way.

“I think that might be too late for that,” Peter replied, feeling with the tip of his fingers the bite-mark on his neck with a frown.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not exactly…”

Wade knew he was thinking the same thing as him. If that thing really did bite him, which it clearly did, it was very difficult not to blame the event in the subway on exactly that. What’s to say there wasn’t going to be other crazy side effects. He was almost expecting Peter’s face to have grown three new pairs of eyes the next time he looked at him.

Instead, when Wade eyed him again, he only noticed Peter subtle clutch at his audibly growling belly and remembering his own hunger by the same token. He decided to change the subject, “you hungry? I don’t have much left, but I could order something…”

“I’m starving,” the young man immediately replied with quite the enthusiast.

“Pizza’s good?”

“Yes. Anything.” Peter flopped down on Wade’s couch again, but he straightened up right away as he felt the need to specify, “just no pineapples or olives, please. I think I got enough messed up thing inside my body for today.”

“But Pete, that’s how we met. I thought it would’ve warmed you up to it! There’s gonna be pineapple and olive pizza at our wedding, Honeybun, I’m telling you.”

“Sure. If I still haven’t turned into a spider hybrid by then.”

“For better or worse!”                                           

Peter rolled his eyes at that, but his pale looking cheeks had gotten slightly pinker while as Wade’s heart missed a beat, despite him, at the endearing sight.

“You can take a shower if you want while waiting.” Peter nodded and Wade continued, “not that I would’ve a problem with that, _au contraire_ , but you should maybe check if you didn’t grow six shiny new arms while you’re at it.”

A small chuckle escaped Peter’s mouth, but it didn’t stop until it became a full-on laughing fit. It was as if the whole situation, and the ridiculousness of it, had finally caught up to him. Wade was more than happy to join in the unexpected hilarity. Peter’s whole face had gotten red from the lack of oxygen while he was on the edge of falling off his seat.

“What’s going on with my life? Tell me, cause I’m clueless, right now,” he breathlessly let out from his precarious place on the sofa.

“Pretty simple, Petey boy.” Wade had started to perambulate on the carpet in front of Peter, his hand locked together around his back like he had seen clever people do in movies. “As luck would have it, your pretty ass got bit by a tiny little insect mutant. Oh, and let’s not forget that your new sugar daddy is a sexy ass motherfucker mercenary.”

“My last one was pretty neat, though.”

“Oh, yeah? Was it Gwen?”

Wade didn’t expect for Peter to burst out laughing all over again, but he did. Wade guffawed himself at how silly the teenager looked. If it wasn’t from the paleness of his skin and the glistening sweat covering it, Wade could’ve almost forgotten that something was wrong with the young man. Also, the bizarre spider laying on his kitchen table was a bit of a nagging presence he just couldn’t ignore. He sure wished it was just a normal Friday night where he and Peter would’ve watched shitty tv shows and make out. Not that it was supposed to be a date, anyway, but… every possible minute spent in the guy’s presence was considered courtship on Wade’s end. It almost felt like he was back in high school with the riled-up hormones and all of that. He had long forgotten the feeling of sweaty palms, tight pants and of a racing heart at the simple view of someone’s smiling face. But maybe he could get used to it again.

Just when he thought the guy’s bottom was about to slip off and end up on the ground in front of his feet, Peter’s body did some fast shit since he was, all of the sudden, standing right next to Wade, away from the couch.

“What, how…” Peter was close enough to him for Wade to feel the heat of his body. He was taking off one layer of clothes, _finally_ , but even without his blue shirt, there was still two layers left on his body. “You stink.”

Peter sniffed one of his armpits before agreeing, “okay, fair enough, I’m gonna go take that shower.”

Before he could leave for the bathroom, Wade wiped Peter’s hair off his forehead and upward as easily as if he had already taken that shower. It left his hand damp but he swiped it off on Peter’s clothed chest if only to have a reason to touch the guy, even though it was pretty desperate, even for Wade. Peter’s brown eyes were no longer partially hidden and he was blinking a lot behind his glasses.

“Smell the towel before you take one. You never know you might get a surprise.”

“Right,” Peter said, shaking his head before taking off to the only other room in the apartment.

It didn’t take very long for the shower to turn off and for three large pizza to be ordered. Wade took the time between the end of his phone call and the moment when Peter got out of the bathroom to tidy up his place a little. Even if it was by merely pushing some of his stuff further down the side of his room. He felt almost shy about it when he pushed the clothes off his bed, forming an impressive heap on the floor on one side of it. He had to admit how much he was wishing for a sleepover with the naked guy in his shower. Wade had moved on to the shits next to his tv and couch when he heard the bathroom’s door being opened by said guy.

“Whitney or Cindy Lauper?” Wade called out to the younger man, hunched over his box of old records.

Maybe some good old tunes would turn Peter mind away from the bullshit that was today. Even just a little bit. _Do you really think you can make the kid’s life better? Even without that fucking spider thing going on right now, do you really believe, you, king of fuck up, could make him happy? Let alone deserve to be taking up all of his time? His friend seems to think so too._ _You’re just too fucking selfish to let him go now._

Wade’s self-deprecating thoughts were interrupted by Peter’s nonchalant voice coming farther behind him. “In what context?”

“Cindy it is.”

When he turned around, a half-naked Peter was rummaging through his fridge, the lone towel tied around his waist menacing to fall off by the sheer force of Wade’s inner prayers alone. There was a long trail of water following all the way from the bathroom to where he was currently standing in the kitchen. Droplets were falling from Peter’s hair and legs. His bent back was shining as if he had gotten out of the shower without taking any time to dry himself. Wade thought he might have dropped brain-dead at the clear sight of the muscles of Peter’s shoulders and back moving as Peter appeared to be picking out stuff from the fridge.

Wade was stuck in his kneeling position, both discs still in his hands while his newly-found teenage hormones had just died a painful and sudden death. He could just feel it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love a naked Peter as a cliffhanger lol


	10. Leprechauns, Spiders, and Flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's nearing Halloween and Wade is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title sounds like ingredients for a potion in Harry Potter lol

“Your life may be a mess, but mine look straight out of a porno, right now.”

Peter ignored Wade or maybe didn’t even heard him, given that he kept rummaging through the fridge, his back turned to him. As Wade expected, knowing exactly how bad he was at buying groceries for himself on a regular basis, the soaking wet teenager wasn’t finding what he was desperately searching for. Decent food, that was.

“You don’t have hot sauce, do you?” the teenager enquired, his voice muffled by the fact that his head was deep inside of the fridge.

“Uh, don’t think so… why?”

Peter already had a piece of cheese in his mouth, the rest of the block was in his left hand while the other one was closing the opened compartments. Wade noticed that he had put the spider that had bitten him in a small plastic bag from one of Wade’s kitchen cabinets, which, now that he thought about it, was a good call. They didn’t know what that thing could do, even though it was ostensibly dead. There was fog coming out of the bathroom’s opened door, sending a humid smell into the air around the apartment. The sun was setting through the closed window and casting an orange shadow on the living room’s floor.

“I’m starving!”

“I can see that…”

Wade had put down the two vinyl in his hand carefully on the carpet and had gotten back on his feet. He was staring at Peter’s bare back, his eyes too often drifting involuntarily lower to the young man’s ass hidden under the white towel and to the back of his thighs, as he made his way closer to the kitchen’s area. Wade was startled slightly in his track as the half-naked man straightened himself and closed the fridge’s door with so much force it almost caused the ground below them to tremble. He saw him heading toward his various kitchen cabinets while munching on another huge chunk of cheese. Wade could only watch from only a few steps away at a fervent Peter opening each and every one of them until he stopped cold at one, putting down the block of cheddar in his hand to replace it with his new and, judging by the large smile that had emerged on his face, amazing discovery.

“Oh my god!”

Peter had found Wade’s only and barely started box of cereals. The merc remembered having barely the time to take a mouthful of them and nearly choking himself before barging off the door to some random job one morning on whatever day of that week that was.

“Your auntie never told you eating other people’s food is considered impolite?” Wade said out loud once the 18 years had finally turned to face him.

He hadn’t meant it to be serious, especially since the guy was giving him quite the view to look at, making it easy for him to forget about his stolen food. _The bastard._ Sadly, the towel tied around his waist was hanging on, but Peter looked awfully cute with both of his cheeks stuffed with cocoa puffs. He was stuffing them straight out of the box in rapid successions, some of them falling into the growing puddle at Peter’s feet. Two even landed and stuck on his damp chest, just below his left collarbone. Unlike the merc, Peter didn’t appear at all concerned about that small fact, nor he was taking too much attention to anything else except the box in his hand and the ball of sugar in his mouth. Wade would’ve been insulted if he hadn’t been enjoying the scenery so much.

“So good,” Peter groaned with his mouth full.

_Is it possible to have a wet cereals kink?_

He had never noticed how well-built Peter actually was. Now that his naked upper body was in full display before him, it was difficult to call the young man anything close to lanky now. Peter’s chest and arms were muscular, but not in the same way Wade’s was. While he still was pretty slim, his built seemed to have changed in some ways. His stomach looked firm and abs were definitely there. Wade had seen the younger man’s stomach before, or a bit of it, at the very least. He remembered very well those moments when Peter would stretch on the floor of his bedroom while Wade was chilling with him. Or that one time when Wade had lifted the bottom of his shirt to touch the skin there when he had been lucky enough to kiss him in that hallway.

He was a hundred percent positive, though, that those arms were very much different. While Wade had quickly learned that the teenager was prone to wear numerous layers of clothing, it wasn’t as if he had never seen his bare arms before. Unless Peter had hit the gym every day of every hour for the last five days where they hadn’t seen each other, he couldn’t have possibly grown _those_ biceps. Hell, before today, Wade had gotten the clear impression that the teenager didn’t have any upper body strength, nor that there was any power in those spaghetti arms of his at all. _They’re like proper… rigatonis now._

Wade would have noticed all of that, right? He also couldn’t lie about all of the time he had gawked at and fantasized about the younger man’s body. No way those muscles had been hiding under there all this time without Wade noticing. Right? Or he really should get glasses too. Speaking of those, Peter’s were nowhere to be found. From what he knew, the teenager hadn’t and didn’t have any reason to bring his contact lenses with him. He must have simply left his glasses in the bathroom, but wouldn’t he be squinting even just a little? There was still bags under his eyes but they did nothing to erase the new-found vivacity inside of his chocolate brown eyes. The exhaustion that had been radiating out of him from back at the subway seemed to have disappeared out of the guy. In fact, it was quite the opposite as he seemed as alert as ever. Of course, there was the glaring fact that he had gained a hell of a lot of strength as if he had eaten a magic mushroom back at one of those Oscorp labs, there was also a lot less clumsiness in his movements. They were quick and harsh and nothing like Wade was used to see from him.

“You, um, never told me you were buff,” Wade decided to say after some inner deliberation and after Peter had put down the empty box of cereal on the kitchen counter. The corners of his mouth, as well as his right hand, were covered with chocolate powder.

Peter took a bite out of the cheese he had left on the counter before retorting, his eyebrows frowning in genuine confusion, “because I’m not?”

Wade flicked with two fingers the remaining tiny brown ball that had not yet fall off Peter’s wet skin, sending it flying to the other side of the room where it hit the wall with a pathetic plop sound.

“That’s not what my dick is telling me.” Met with Peter’s expressionless face, he backtracked hastily, “not that you were unattractive… before… er…”

Peter snorted on his next bite, his neck and cheeks growing slightly pink. It was nothing compared to Wade, however, whose entire body felt on the edge of going off into flames. He wasn’t lying, though. His pants felt incredibly more tight and uncomfortable on his crotch area the more he stood there watching the water slowly rolling down Peter naked skin. The ones running down his navel to the towel covering his groin, in particular, were coming across as exceptionally enticing.

 _Someone must have_ _turned up the heat, for sure._

“You’re gonna tell me you’ve always looked like that?”

“I guess… not?” Peter appeared to hesitate, looking down bewilderingly at his own body as though he was seeing his naked form for the first time. He began touching his chest with interest, feeling the muscles there to then do the same to one of his arms. He was squeezing it insistently in a pose reminiscent to those tanned douchebags showing off to ladies at the beach. “Sure. Okay, yeah. That’s not mine.”

 “You – I could uh… pass you some clothes? Unless you’re one of those brave guys who like to eat pizza naked. Yours are probably um…” He knew he would probably regret that. However, there was truly no way Wade could properly think further into all of the anomalous shits happening around Peter since leaving the Oscorp tower if the guy was going to keep up with the shameless nudity.

“Smelly? Yeah, I guess they must be.” Peter had stopped fondling himself, _thank god_ , to straightened and pull up the towel that had been hanging low on his hips until now. _No!_ “You okay? You’re looking kind of weird.”

Wade’s red face turned absurdly redder. He had started to feel somewhat self-conscious, what with Peter’s eyes being solely on him now and the annoying fact that Peter might have noticed just the slightest bit just how much he was affecting him.

“ _I_ look weird? I’m not the one rummaging through my kitchen like a sexy raccoon.”

Peter looked at him sheepish all of the sudden, putting down the last bit of the cheese he had yet to finish on the counter behind him. It was so tiny that Wade had difficulty to believe anyone, even him, would put it back in their fridge. “Oh yeah, crap. Sorry.”

Wade reassured him with an awkward pat to the shoulder that only left his fingers wet and with the desire to touch more. “It’s fine. You had a weird day, after all.”

“You know when you’re so hungry that it feels like your stomach is digesting itself?” Peter didn’t wait for Wade to answer before particularly shrieking, a hand clutching his firm belly, “it feels ten times worst!”

“I’m guessing it’s not puberty?”

“Yeah, puberty made me stuck to a train ceiling after it so happened I got bitten by a radioactive spider! Of course.”

 _Wow, he did do that, didn’t he?_ Wade thought, his eyes glancing for a short second to the dead spider laying on his kitchen table not too far away behind them.

“No need to get cocky, shortcake.”

“Please, don’t talk about food!”

A short laugh escaped out of Wade, who moved a bit closer to Peter and whose feet ultimately got too close to the small puddle of water growing at the young man’s bare feet.

“Fuck me, my socks are wet!” he immediately cried out, already taking off with some effort his grey socks now sticking uncomfortably to his toes.

Like the asshole that he was, Peter then shook his head, akin to what a dog would do after a bath, angling it so that Wade’s face would receive every drop of it. While his hair had begun to dry, Wade had to close his eyes not to get hit.

His eyes still tightly closed, the older man said with as much sarcasm he could muster in a four words sentence, “thank you so much!”

He heard Peter’s laugh before he saw it. But when he did, it had already stopped and was replaced by silence. Peter’s head was turned to the front door and it was only a few seconds later that Wade realized why. The doorbell rang loudly inside the quiet apartment, signaling the arrival of their much-awaited dinner.

“You wanna get that, Pornstar?”

He pointed to the door over his shoulder while tugging at the smaller man’s towel lightly, not enough to really move it. He did step closer into his space, though, ignoring the water getting between his bare toes and feeling a bit of confidence running through him from the way Peter’s body had tilted toward his. Although it was apparently just enough for him to blatantly look Peter up and down right in his face. Wade did have a stupid smile on so it might have been why Peter pushed him off, playfully but still, by shoving him in the direction of the front door behind where a poor delivery man was waiting. It was enough to almost send him off his feet. For a guy who could barely escape Wade’s tickling hands some days prior, that was startling, to say the least.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!” Peter reacted, apologetic.

The teen waiting on the other side of his door looked as if he was about to ring another time when he opened the door. The tiny piece of cheese left on the counter had disappeared when Wade closed the door and came back with the pizza boxes in his arms. Peter was innocently waiting for him by one of the kitchen stools. It didn’t surprise the mercenary whatsoever when he saw him particularly jumped on the first box.

“I’ll leave you to that. I gotta get some clothes for you to put on,” Wade said. Peter only grunted in response, working on his second slice at this point.

He went quickly through the heap clothes on the ground beside his bed. It took a few infuriating minutes of swearing from Wade’s part, as well as some loud munching on Peter’s part, for the merc to finally get his hand on a plain red tee-shirt and pair of grey joggers that could possibly fit the half-naked man.

“Here.”

He threw the clothes toward the absorbed teenager, expecting it to land on the floor at his feet. Yet, he ended up catching it with a swift movement of his right arm as he kept munching on pizza. Wade was too busy taking the few steps separating them to slap the guy’s ass before he could move out of the way to be impressed. Peter left to the bathroom, but not without a hard smack to Wade’s arm, with his fourth slice hanging out of his mouth.

He came back soon after and it was then that Wade realized that there was, in fact, a perk in having Peter not being naked anymore if it meant he was now drowning in Wade’s clothes. At least now, it felt like he could think straight, but it was the way it was dangling on Peter’s figure that made red rise to his cheeks for a whole new reason and his heart to pinch itself in an unfamiliar fashion. But then again, it was akin to what it would do after he would overestimate his capacity to eat by himself the equivalent of a meal for a family of twelves in Mexican food.

The shirt fell a tad too long on his frame and was reaching his upper thighs. The shoulders were too large and were giving longer sleeves than it should have. As for the joggers, their legs were engulfing his feet and rubbing on the floor as Peter made his way to the couch where Wade had sat. Wade noticed the state of the elastic around his waist to make them stay on when he plopped down the couch beside him.

“That’s a nice outfit. I bet it would look even better in a pile on my bedroom floor!” Wade added without wasting a second, “see what I did there?”

“Yes, Wade.”

He had set down the pizza boxes on the small living room table and had started on the only one that had pineapples and olives as toppers. Two flies had ditched his garbage pile to hang out over their food. Sure enough, it didn’t take long until he had Peter’s disgusted look on him when he realized what the other man was eating.

“You didn’t.”

“Let me live!”

Wade made sure Peter was looking at him when he took his last bite and blew his smelly breath into his face once it was down his throat. He saw the 18 years old’s whole face pinching up in consequence, his eyes and mouth tightly shut as if he was underwater. His brown hair had mostly dried and was pointing in every direction and the red of his shirt was accentuated the rosy tint of his cheek. Shower and food had unsurprisingly done a miracle on him. In addition, he didn’t appear to be sweating as much. It was without mentioning literally everything else, but Wade was quite pleased that Peter was no longer looking on the verge of breaking. Even the simple jolts of the train had given him the impression that they could have been fatal to the weak Peter that had been resting on his lap at the time. Obviously, that was right before he flipped out on everyone. Wasn’t Peter worried? _Of course,_ Wade thought. _He’s not fucking stupid. He’s the one with the giant ass bite on his neck!_

Wade decided to mention the elephant in the room the only way he knew how: by making a bad joke.

“You won’t have to prepare for tomorrow since you’ll have your very own Halloween costume and all.”

“I won’t turn into a spider,” Peter retorted, leaning his back more heavily on the couch’s arm to face the man next to him better. “Doctor Connors wants to increase human capacities. Not create actual mutations.”

“How do you know that? Look what it already did!”

As if to prove his point, a fly went by Wade’s right ear to circle over the half-eaten pizza’s piece in Peter’s hand. But before it could do so, it was in a grip between two of Peter’s fingers. Its wings were flapping rapidly against each other as it tried to fly away. _Back to her friends, I imagine. Poor Dorothy._

“Are you gonna eat Dorothy?” Peter looked as confused and impressed with himself as Wade was. He ended letting the flying insect free. “Don’t worry, spider-guy. I won’t leave you when you fully transform like that guy in _The Fly_.”

“I would be more surprised if you say you haven’t jerked off to that movie at least once.”

“Who hasn’t, though.” Wade cleared his throat before changing the subject completely. “Do you think that’s what your dad wanted? To max up human abilities? If so, that’s fucking ironic, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“That it happened to _you_.”

“Yeah…” They ate in silence for maybe a minute before Peter got up and said, “do you have decent movies we could watch?”

“Oh, are we gonna have a sleepover?” the older man answered back with a bit too much excitement as he sat up straighter in his seat on the couch. “I learned how to braid hair on the internet and stuff, once. Or we could rock the Casbah if you’re more into that…”

“I should probably text my aunt.” Peter went to retrieve his phone from the bathroom where he had left his pair of jeans.

Wade jumped off the sofa and shouted to Peter so he could hear from the other room, “was that a yes? Oh my god, it’s been so long since I’ve had a pajama party. Let me set the Halloween ambiance!”

He went straight to his closet close to the front door. The door was difficult to open, given the amount of stuff that had been stuffed behind it. It was supposed to be for coats and such but it had served as a full-on storeroom than anything else. Yet, he successfully came back with four blankets and cheap vampire teeth in his mouth. Peter was kneeling by the TV looking through his movie collection while Wade was unfolding the old bedspreads and arranging them on the couch, the teenager’s phone now on the kitchen table next to the plastic bag which contained the spider from the lab.

“Why do you have that in your closet?” Peter had looked behind him at the sound of Wade’s plastic teeth smacking together. There was drool already menacing to dribble down his neck.

“To be honest with you, I don’t remember,” Wade said, but it came out like gibberish even to his own ears.

“You have horrible taste in movie, by the way,” Peter remarked, turning back to the DVDs in rows front of him. “You have all of the _Leprechaun_ movies. Even for you, that’s incredibly bad.”

The vampire teeth made a disgusting suction noise when Wade pull them out to respond to what he considered was a personal attack on his person. The only reason to ever do so, really. “They’re good in small dosage! Like double penetration and LSD.”

“There’s seven of them!”

“I’ve got a crazy idea…”

“No. We’re not having a _Leprechaun_ marathon.”

“So, you can also read minds now? Spiders can’t do that, right?” Peter was looking at him with a deadpan stare so powerful it succeeded in shutting him up for the surprisingly good total of two seconds. “But pre-surgery Jennifer Anniston!”

Wade saw his guest roll his eyes as he came back to his feet without any effort. He took it as an opportunity to get a few steps closer to Peter, keeping the Halloween accessory coated in drool in his palm. If he had to convince him, he will. Not that he was set on watching those films in particular. It was more about seeing Peter bickering face than anything else. He liked how riled, like Wade himself, he could get over the weirdest things. The both of them were standing on the brownish carpet on the living room, a meter or so apart from each other. Although he was actively aiming to get closer to the other man, he was wearing an awfully big shit-grin on his face.

“I’m calling my uncle and he’s going to kick your ass.”

“Oh yeah?” He took a step closer and offered Peter his best impression of him, but if it was affected by helium. “Uncle Ben! This older guy is trying to sell me drugs!”

Peter's arms were crossed on his chest and his nose scrunched up like he was trying to keep a laugh in. “Fuck you, Lucky Charms!”

“See? You’ve seen it!” Wade had gotten close enough for Peter to have to lift his head up a little to keep their locked gaze. “And you liked it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, I know what _I_ like to see…”

He rested a hand on the smaller man’s locked upper arm. The other applied a light touch to the red shirt covering Peter’s strong shoulders. _You’re so smooth, Wilson._

“I’ll say it again. What comes out of your mouth never makes any sense.”

Peter was watching him like he knew exactly what the taller man was doing. So, it surprised Wade a great amount when Peter was actually the one who closed the last bit of space between their face. The force used by Peter forced their lips to basically crashed together. Wade’s head recoiled from the unexpectedness of it but quickly pushed back against Peter’s. He felt the teenager’s arms uncrossing each other until both of their chests were pressed against each other. Although the kiss had sort of a rough start, there was a slow pace about it once they did settle on one. Wade could feel his heartbeat pumping through his shirt at the unhurried way Peter’s mouth opened to move his tongue with his. Like there was nothing wrong and nothing would ever be. He could let himself believe that, for now.

“Hang on.” He broke off the kiss and twisted his back just enough to put on the fake teeth without Peter’s knowing. Well, he knew soon enough anyway, what with the intensity Wade used to bite the side of the guy’s neck and jaw teasingly.

Peter pushed him off as easily as if the mercenary had weighted nothing. He was laughing good-heartily, though, his neck and cheeks red from a combination of the bites and the kiss.

“Okay. Let’s watch those atrocities,” Peter said, sitting down on the couch and claiming two of the blankets spread out on it for himself.

Wade smiled so hard back at him that his vampire teeth fell out to the ground. Peter sniggered at him from his cozy seat and still was when Wade put the first DVD on.

“Give me room, me dear!” The man shouted as he nothing but catapulted himself next to Peter.

They were already finished with the first two _Leprechaun_ movies and halfway through the third one when Peter began to drift off, the pizza long gone at this point. His head was dangling on his shoulder and his breathing had gotten slower. His continuous commentaries mocking the ridiculous scenes and dialogues alongside Wade’s had slowly ceased to let place to soft snores. Both of Peter’s feet had slowly ended up, during those hours, closer and closer to Wade’s face. One was currently on his tummy while the other was on his shoulder, the teenager’s toes brushing against his right ear from time to time. Only his head and hair were pocking out from the other side of the couch.

The apartment was plunged in darkness, the only source of light coming from the TV. The clock beside it showed that it was reaching half-past three in the morning. The merc could overhear cars riding far off down the street through his window and the faint noises of what he assumed was a party happening in the building. One of the blankets had been kicked onto the floor long ago, but Wade had been wondering if he should get it back since the room had gotten colder since reaching midnight.

Wade shook Peter’s calf gently under the blankets and said, “come on, Pete. Don’t you wanna see how he will go into space?”

Peter stirred and grumbled, “sorry, sorry.”

Wade was starting to feel a bit drowsy himself, so maybe it was why he didn’t think before slipping under the covers to reach the boy on the other side of the couch. He could hear Peter mumbling his name in interrogation and felt his entire body stir under his. Peter’s legs stretched themselves out while Wade was trying to make his way to Peter. The couch fitted the both of them perfectly fine, but if Wade was to keep up with the stirring, it wouldn’t have been shocking if the two grown men ended up on the ground beside it in an intermingling of limbs and bedspreads. Wade’s head ultimately popped out of the three layers covering them, his chin propped on Peter’s hard chest.

“Oh, hey,” Peter whispered groggily, his neck contorted in a painful looking position to look back at the man sprawled out on his body. He didn’t seem to mind the fact that the mercenary’s entire weight on him and even put one arm around Wade’s back. The other one was dangling off the sofa like it had been for quite some time.

“I want me gold,” Wade murmured in a horrible imitation of the main actor’s accent in the movie currently playing in the background.

He planted a kiss on Peter’s clothed collarbone, both of his hands making their way inside of the young man’s shirt. Wade felt him shudder and the muscles there contracting under his fingers.

Wade could hear Peter’s smile in his voice when he whispered, “you get turned on by weird stuff, man.”

Wade didn’t answer as since he struggled to untie the elastic holding the joggers around Peter’s waist. They had slid slightly down in Wade’s attempt to get across the couch without standing up, but it was still difficult to get them off blindly like that. He wound up pulling them off not all the way as he couldn’t reach that far.

“Is that okay?” the merc lifted his head to ask, his hands frozen on the edge of the other’s underwear.

“Yeah…” Peter mouthed with a few quick and short nods.

Wade got it as his cue to do what he had been wanting to do since the 18 years old had shown up in that damn towel. He slid off Peter’s boxer down his legs where his joggers were. Peter’s breathing had already gotten a lot heavier when Wade let a trail of open-mouthed kisses down his clad chest down to his exposed lower belly. Wade dive lower, the covers falling over his head while his nose got buried into the short hair at Peter’s groin. He got his hands lower too, the left one grabbing at the back of a thigh whereas his right seized Peter’s length so close to his face and began to stroke it leisurely.

He couldn’t see anything of what he was doing under there. Peter’s thigh tightened under his grip as Wade fasten his pace. He switched it to the younger man’s ass and squeezed tightly at the same moment his tongue tentatively licked the tip of Peter’s hardening member in his hand. Peter’s low moans sounded muffled through the blankets, but Wade could feel the vibration of it. He took it further into his mouth, grabbing the guy’s hip to prevent him from bucking up any further than he did at the first contact of Wade’s lips on the most sensitive part of his body. He ran his tongue all over it before popping it inside of his mouth again, this time deeper, emitting a louder moan from Peter. He was flicking his wrist at its base to the rhythm of his bopping head. He reached a point where he couldn’t breathe anymore whilst as Peter’s shaft, as well as Wade’s hand, were soaked by his drool, but he could feel Peter getting too close to stop.

Peter’s hand on his back clutched him so hard Wade expected it to leave it a mark. He sensed it before it happened. Hot liquid came crashing down Wade’s throat in succession, Peter’s legs jolting on each side of him as he swallowed it down. Peter’s fists were holding on to the surface of the couch when he came back up and could breath fresh air again. It had gotten awfully warmer in the room even though Wade had left the sweltering heat of the blankets. He could only see one side of Peter’s face, the one who was facing toward the opened TV. He appeared to be still coming up from his high, his breath coming out in hard puffs and a drop of sweat running down from his temple.

Wade cleared his throat before he said, his chin propped on Peter’s chest, only now separated by his crossed arms, “can you die from swallowing gold?”

“Oh my god. I feel weird,” Peter’s breathed out, looking up at the ceiling.

“Why?”

“I can’t believe I got a blowjob during a _Leprechaun_ movie.”

“Eh, we still got four more to go if you want.”

Peter let a breathy laugh, his heart still beating very fast against the older man’s hand on his chest. They both yawned at the same time, prompting Wade to switch their place. Peter didn’t really fight it when Wade rolled them over to be the one to have his back to the couch while the other laid over him. His head rested between Wade’s collarbone and his arms wrapped around him, his eyes shut. Wade closed his eyes too, resting his fingers through the sleepy teenager’s hair.

“What if you grow tiny gross hair everywhere?”

“Shut up and sleep Wade,” was the last thing he remembered hearing before he fell asleep, both men oblivious to the credits rolling on the screen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put in a lot of references to the Leprechaun movies for someone who learned about their existence only two weeks ago


	11. If you're a bird, I'm a spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very different ‘morning’ in Peter’s life.

Peter was laying on a surface he didn’t recognize. All he knew was that it was warm and comfortable to the point of lulling him back to sleep, and definitely not his usual mattress. He actually could have gone back to sleep if the glaring orange sunlight coming from, what he assumed, was through a window situated behind him hadn’t woke him up in the first place, nagging at his closed eyelids. Peter’s other cheek was resting on the same hard, yet paradoxically slack mass the rest of his body was. He felt calm and surprisingly at ease under the sun caressing his left cheek and clothed back. There wasn’t any bedding covering him, but the back of his oversized shirt had gotten warmed up, but not enough to be disagreeable, far from it.

When Peter ultimately opened his eyes, he was forced to squint severely as a ray of sunshine was coming right to the exposed side of his face. He lifted himself off the bed a bit by his forearms only to realize he was not laying on a bed at all. His body was not only sprawled out on a couch but on a man as well. He instantly recognized Wade snoring under him, his mouth wide open while his head was resting on the armrest. Peter couldn’t feel his right arm as it was crushed between the couch and the body under his. The clock beside the TV indicated noon whereas the _Leprechaun 3_ movie menu playing on the television. Blankets had been kicked out during the night to the floor beside the couch. Only one had remained in a ball between Wade’s parted bare feet. Empty boxes of pizza were scattered on the living room table close to the couch, a single fly hovering over them.

Peter exhaled deeply and retake his place on the older man’s torso. The man’s chest was moving slowly up and down under Peter’s head and had most likely been one of the factors having helped him sleep this long and this easily. He had taken back his right arm from its confinement under Wade’s back, sending tingles down his fingers nearly up to his shoulder. To Peter dismay, he wasn’t able to go back to sleep. Now that he was awake, the young man didn’t understand how he ever managed to fall asleep in the first place.

He could hear every single noise around the seemingly quiet room, down to the subdued buzz of the fly to two people walking down the hallway of the apartment building on the same floor as them. It had been the same yesterday since he had woken up with his body hanging upside down on that train’s ceiling. His senses, _everything_ seemed… amplified, since then. Even Peter himself. Not only did he had grown a size in muscular mass in less than the hour it had taken them to reach Wade’s apartment after Oscorp, he had also taken some weird abilities the teenager had never dreamed he could have in a billion years.

He couldn’t remember a time in his life where he hadn’t need support to see. Colors seemed brighter and every object appeared clearer. Peter could distinguish the dust blowing in the air around the fly’s wings. The tiny crumb of pizza crust, smaller than an ant, stuck to Wade’s short sleeve by his upper arm appeared to him as if he had taken a look at it under a microscope. Plus, his reflexes had never been the best, just ask all of his gym teachers since the first grade, and yet, everything gave the impression to be moving slower. Or was he the one moving faster? That he didn’t truly know yet, but he was leaning toward the latter.

He was taking it pretty well, all things considered. Being at Wade’s place and not left alone in his own room trying to decipher what was going on had certainly helped in some ways. Also, Peter was glad his aunt and uncle didn’t have to see him like that yesterday when everything was too much and his head felt on the verge of exploding. Peter didn’t know what he would have told them. Probably nothing at all. He did have been pretty short on the phone with his uncle that previous night. They must think he was a really weird kid already. It was nice just to have that sort of moment of calm if he could call it that, even after the mess that was Oscorp. By his own fault, but still. The mercenary sure knew how to lighten a mood. Even ones that involved him having to deal with punching innocent men with a metal bar.

Half an hour must have passed where Peter had to turn off the television to prevent the never-ending loop of the _Leprechaun 3_ movie menu from driving him absolutely crazy. He wasn’t ready to tell a sleeping Wade about the on and off button of his remote being broken, having stuck to his thumb when he pressed it. It had taken the 18 years old some frustrating minutes in a precarious position on the couch to unstuck it to his thumbprint during which he was trying not to wake up Wade, who he nearly elbowed multiple times in the process. He doubted the man would have taken the time in the middle of the night to put glue on his remote in the chance of Peter being the one turning the TV off in the morning. It was the subway and the shower situation all over again. That pole simply wouldn’t let him drop it, just as Wade’s shower handle ended up getting loose in his hand. Was it that he couldn’t control his strength? Or had his skin gotten sticky, somehow? It definitely felt like both. And he was getting hungry.

Peter soon felt Wade’s body stir under his and his breathing getting slightly quicker. His toes shifted against the couch’s fabric while one of his arms closed around Peter’s back lazily.

“Hey, Sugar Puff.”

Wade’s hoarse voice had resonated loud in Peter’s ears, amplified by the vibration coming from his chest right to his right ear pressed against it. It momentarily reminded the younger man of the way Wade’s voice had sounded after he had come back from underneath the blankets in those early hours of the morning after pleasuring him with his hand and his mouth. That was perhaps not the best memories to have while literally being crotch to crotch with the man himself.

“Hey,” Peter said. He crossed his arms on Wade’s chest, propping his chin on them the same way he had seen the man do on his own chest that previous night.

Wade straightened himself up a bit until his shoulder blades were the ones leaning against the armrest instead of the back of his head. Their faces were close enough so Peter could feel the other man’s breath against his mouth.

“You still smell like olives,” Peter told him.

“You don’t smell so good yourself.” Wade paused, and eventually admitted, “that’s a lie.”

Peter squirmed forward a bit on the other man’s torso until he could press his lips on his. Maybe if he had his way he could return Wade’s favor from last night… He only had the time to plant two light pecks on his mouth, feeling the man’s stubble on his upper lip, before his plan was interrupted when they both heard a song combined with loud vibrations coming from the bathroom where Peter had left his cell phone. It surprised Peter so much that he detached himself from Wade completely. He thought he would have ended up on the ground beside the couch, at the very least, but instead, he was left hanging upside down on the ceiling directly above Wade and the couch. Peter could see him sitting up straight from his position, Wade’s head turning left and right as his eyes searched for him around the room until he looked up at him.

_How do I keep doing that?_

“Oh right. I had forgotten about that,” Wade said, lifting himself from the couch and stretching himself. “In fact, I think I dreamed you were bitten by a giant pigeon. Not to scare you or anything.”

“You would be the kind of guy to get bitten by a radioactive pigeon,” Peter replied, still looking at Wade from upside down.

The young man’s oversized shirt was dangling from his back and his joggers were menacing to slide down his waist as he was basically on all fours. Although it was on a ceiling and not on the ground, it seemed very easy to pretend that he was. He felt as light as a feather and like he could stay up there forever if he wanted to, just crawling all over the walls of Wade’s apartment. He had to admit it was pretty funny to see a freshly out of bed Wade looking up at him with his fists on his hips and his eyebrows in a frown like some kind of exasperated mother looking upon their troubled kid. The ringtone had ceased by now.

“Say the guy who got bitten by a teeny tiny spider.”

“It wasn’t that tiny!”

“Not that big either!”

They both had looked over at the transparent plastic bag on Wade’s kitchen table exactly where they had left it yesterday. The dead spider inside of it hadn’t budged either. Its inert body, almost florescent under the morning sunshine, was mirroring Peter’s position.

“You’re a pigeon.”

“ _We_ are pigeons.”

Peter rolled his eyes as he tentatively moved one of his hands off the surface it was sticking so perfectly on to touch the bite behind his neck. Despite the fact that it was relatively fresh, it was almost entirely gone and Peter was ready to bet it was no longer that angry red color he had managed to see in the mirror before his shower. He could barely feel anything underneath his fingers, nor any pain from the poking he was doing.

He still expected to see himself morphing into a human-sized spider at any point, like it was going to be the final stage of his unbelievable transformation or something. Wade had been right on some points yesterday. Not only did they both not know what else that bite could do to him, they were also very much unaware of what Doctor Connors’s, as well as his dad’s, real intentions were with those experiments. Peter couldn’t pretend he knew his dad would have good ones, in view of the fact that he didn’t know the man at all.

“You won’t believe me, but I feel _very_ different from other mornings,” Peter said.

Peter’s hand wasn’t on the back of his neck anymore and instead was scrutinizing the palm of his hand. He then began to make his way down the ceiling, his hands and feet sticking to its surface like it was second nature under Wade upside-down stare. Despite Wade’s calm exterior, Peter could see by the look on his face that he was quite dumbfounded by what the younger man was doing. Like any other human would react to someone climbing up their walls, he supposed.

“How different do you feel, though? Robert Downey Jr. different, or Macaulay Culkin different?” Wade asked, following Peter from ground level so he would always be below him with his head high in the air.

“I don’t usually go up crawling on ceilings first thing in the morning.”

“It’s noon.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Are you gonna get down anytime soon, or will I have to get a broom.” Peter stopped and took that as a cue to lower himself, only by the help of his right arm and of his inexplicably sticky palm. He stayed some seconds just dangling there, his body simply swaying from the ceiling both to unnerve Wade and to test his newfound abilities. His feet were at Wade’s shoulders level. Peter tapped one with his big toe. “Okay, show-off, now get the fuck down, you’re gonna break your neck!”

Wade went to grab at Peter’s ankle just at the moment Peter’s ridiculous ringtone chimed again in the other room. Peter finally jumped down right in front of the man, his ankle slipping between Wade’s fingers. His bare feet plopped down on the floor with a quiet thud.

“Girlfriend is blowing up your phone?”

“Who?”

“Be nice and she won’t rat our asses up to her crazy boss.” Wade had turned away and gotten to his fridge to take a huge swig out of a gallon of orange juice.

“Oh, Gwen? She won’t.” _Probably._ Peter made his way to the bathroom and called out behind him, “and here I was thinking that _you_ were my girlfriend.”

He heard Wade loudly snort on his long swallow from his spot in front of the bathroom mirror. Peter didn’t bother turning on the light and quickly found his phone where he had left it. At the top of his pile of clothes, that was. There were two missed phone calls from Harry on there, which surprised him, but he had left no messages.

“I might have broken your shower yesterday, by the way,” he told Wade, raising his voice so he would be able to hear him. He was busy answering the text his aunt had sent him that morning. She wasn’t really one to use her cell phone a lot, Peter had to teach her how to answer a call only two weeks ago, but she was more than likely going to send him a good morning text whenever he slept out. “But it’s fine, now! You just wanna be careful with the handle from now on.”

“Dang it! I had plans for us breaking my shower together!” Wade shouted back at him.

“You’re dumb.”

Peter could hear the merc rummaging through his kitchen as he called Harry back in the obscurity of the bathroom. He rested his unoccupied hand on the counter right beside the sink and leaned his weight against it, looking at his badly lit reflection in the stained mirror. The right side of his hair was completely flat on his head compared to the left one. His borrowed red tee-shirt was falling low on his neck and revealing the entirety of one of his collarbones. His fingers had begun to tap rhythmically on the small bathroom counter as he waited for Harry to pick up, his belly growling painfully in hunger. Peter had some ideas about what his friend might have wanted to talk to him about and he wasn’t too keen to hear about it. So better get over with it.

He had only just spotted the tiny and cute _Hello Kitty_ toothbrush, which was actually the only one in the room, sitting inside a white glass missing a piece, when Harry picked up.

“Hey, Harry. What’s up?”

“Peter! You’ve been avoiding me, or something?”

“No, I just overslept. Sorry.”

“So, Gwen told me you and your guy broke into Oscorp yesterday?” Harry didn’t cut to the chase, proving Peter right in the same vein. Peter’s breath audibly caught in his throat, anyway, as he froze in place. “Relax, I didn’t call security on you. How did you do that, by the way?”

An awkward laugh managed to escape out of Peter. “That was pretty easy, mate.”

“Hey. Don’t make me regret this,” Harry warned him. Peter felt bad. Honestly. It didn’t help that Harry’s tone had gotten so serious, as well.

“Yeah… Sorry. It’s just that I wanted to…” Peter had started to reply a bit sheepishly until he was interrupted by Wade peeped out from the hallway, both hands on the doorframe and wearing a bright pink apron over his clothes.

“Hey, baby, just one question. Are you allergic to nuts?”

“Huh? No, Wade. No, I’m not.”

He heard Harry letting out an aggravated sigh on the other end. Wade had disappeared back to the kitchen as quickly as he had appeared.

The allusion of Wade must have set something off into Harry’s brain since he sounded incredibly angrier when he said, “really, Pete? I’ve been your friend for a long time and I don’t recall you being this stupid.”

“What do you mean exactly?” Peter hesitated to ask.

“First you go out with a guy who kills people and now sneak into security heavy buildings? He’s turning you into some kind of criminal, or something?”

Even though he couldn’t even see himself in the mirror, and Harry clearly couldn’t too, Peter felt incredibly embarrassed at the way his face immediately warmed up at the accusation he threw at him. He couldn’t really blame Harry and Gwen for always bringing up the fact that he had been hanging out with a mercenary for the past few weeks. The very same mercenary that he happened to be wearing the clothes of while standing in his bathroom. That his friends didn’t need to know. Especially at that particular moment, where Harry was accusing him of turning into some kind of criminal by Wade’s influence. It wasn’t as if he would forget, even though the both of them ever rarely talked about it.

“That has nothing to do with that.”

“Oh really? I’m surprised you two didn’t kill anyone while you were there.”

“He’s not all about killing people, you know. And besides, Oscorp was _my_ idea.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated… I’ll explain later. But it has to do with my dad.”

Harry voiced softened as he questioned in surprise, “your dad?”

“Yeah… I learned something recently and I had to see it for myself.”

“Did you steal something?”

_Does a mutated spider from some shady lab count?_

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll talk about this later. But promise me you won’t do that again so Gwen can calm down.”

“No, man, there won’t be another time.”

“Well, okay, or at least don’t bring your boyfriend,” Harry sneered.

Peter let a tense laugh before they hung up. When he released his grip on the bathroom counter, Peter noticed he had ripped off a piece of wood from it, some wood crumbs falling to the white tiles. He quickly ripped away the piece from his palm and into the trashcan, a bit mortified. He could decipher some Cindy Lauper song playing in the living room and Wade’s low humming to it.

“Thank God, you didn’t find my bread yesterday,” was what Wade said, his back turned to him when Peter came back out of the bathroom.

Peter came over to him and looked over the taller man’s shoulder only to see that he had prepared several sandwiches, maybe six or so, that were all displayed on the kitchen counter in front of him in an unelaborated pile. There were some small blots of strawberry jam on it as well and soft peanut butter all over the butter knife Wade had just put down by the sink. His hands were covered in peanut butter as well whereas his pink apron was immaculate. It also read ‘professional meat handler’ in huge cursive letters on it. For good measure, of course.

That anyone could judge the man solely on his dubious ‘profession’ would forever stay a complete mystery to Peter.

“Do you really need an apron to make peanut butter and jellies?”

“It’s all about style, you ungrateful little shit,” Wade retorted, shoving one of his copious sandwiches into the younger man’s hand.

“Alright,” Peter conceded, shrugging as he took a huge bite out of it. A happy groan slipped out of his mouth at the explosion of peanut butter and strawberry jam in his mouth. The rumbling in his belly roared with renewed vigor.

“So, who was it?”

“Was my friend. Harry.” He took another bite before he continued, “he’s not very pleased about our escapade from yesterday. Since his dad owns Oscorp and all.”

Wade’s eyebrows were raised very high on his forehead when he turned to Peter, a sandwich in his hand and his butt leaning against the counter. “You didn’t tell me that.”

“Yeah, well. Norman Osborn is dying so, I didn’t want to bother Harry with my questions about Connors.”

“No shit. You didn’t date that one too, did you?”

Peter could tell that Wade was trying to look as uninterested by his own question as he possibly could. Which wasn’t really convincing, to begin with. He was looking down at his peanut butter and jelly like it detained some kind of secret Peter wasn’t in on. He looked less shaggy than Peter, that that was certain. While Wade’s hair was too short to bend in the way Peter’s had during the night, it had gotten flat on his head. Some tiny brown strands were touching the top of his forehead. He hadn’t shaven in a while and it showed. Not that he was sporting a long beard or anything, but if he was to keep that up, he could be.

As attractive Peter thought the man was, he wasn’t too hype on having to kiss an extra spiky Wade. Not that he could say the stubble was really that unpleasant… or that they even had a long-term thing going on for him to envisage the aspect of having to kiss a bearded Wade in the future. Not unlike Wade’s mercenary business, they hadn’t really talked about that stuff. Was Wade even the kind of guy to do long-term in general? He hadn’t strike Peter as such. Thus far, anyway. Wade did appear, though, like the guy who has difficulty getting rid of stuff, judging by the state of his apartment.

“Me and Harry? Nah, never. But he does have that brooding look to him, though,” he teased, imitating the other man’s indifferent tone.

“I can be broody!” Wade sounded exceptionally offended. He was enough to put down his half-eaten sandwich on the counter with the untouched ones and turn his whole body in Peter’s direction. It was as though Peter had specifically stated that he was incapable of having a brooding look on his face.

“Testing the water again?”

“Yeah…” Wade deflated, turning his back to the counter once more.

Peter’s fingers reached up to the older man’s hair to unflatten it, regardless. It had started to bother him now that he had become aware of it. He brushed the little hairs from Wade’s forehead to make them stand up like they usually were. Wade’s face had taken a surprised, and somewhat dumb, expression. His mouth was parted slightly while his eyes had opened a little wider as they were locked on Peter’s face, looking at him oddly.

“You should shave,” Peter told Wade, his hands back on his sandwich. “Bet you look like a weird adult-sized baby when you’re shaved.”

Wade scratched his bristly jaw and retorted, his mystified eyes still on Peter, “if that’s what you’re into. Anything for you, _baby boy_.”

They ate in silence for a good minute after that. Though the apartment wasn’t really that immersed into silence since there was Cindy Lauper’s high pitch voice hurting Peter newly sensible ears, he could very much feel the start of a headache, coming from Wade’s turntable set down in the living room. Peter had expected a little dance or an attempt at harmonizing from Wade given his seeming inner rule to put his grain of salt into every pop song even remotely rhythmic. Wade had the occasion to show him his vocals and embarrassed Peter more than once on the very first day they met at that arcade thing. He wondered if Wade had kept his cheap price like he did.

Instead, Wade started talking out of the blue like he had been in the middle of a sentence he hadn’t started off out loud, “the two of us already shared one traumatic event, together.”

Peter looked pointedly at him, waiting for him to continue his abrupt thought, but when he showed no sign of doing so, Peter replied, a bit confused, “yes, I guess we have.”

“Weasel suggested I put my name on it before I go completely crazy or somebody else beat me up to it. Well, he didn’t say it in those words but we had the same general idea…”

“Who’s Weasel?”

“I don’t know!” Wade threw his arms in the air, surprising Peter, who had only just put the last piece of sandwich that they had left into his mouth. There was redness rising on the older man’s neck up to his bushy cheeks.

Wade was adamant in confronting him, apparently, and Peter could only stare back at him and chew on his piece of bread tremendously slowly as he continued, his arms flailing around in the air between them, “what I’m saying is, I’m not exactly boyfriend material. I’m not little miss perfect, with her flawless blonde hair and fucking good grades. I’m old! I’m old and I never went to college. I was in the Special Forces and became a mercenary. That’s it. No fucking internship with some extraordinary scientist, or some shit. I kill assholes and I love it, and I know everyone you know is disgusted by me and disapprove and I wouldn’t blame you if you did too!”

It was pretty clear by the middle to Peter that Wade was trying to make a point more to himself than to him. What was that point, Peter didn’t really know.

“What are you on about?”

“Do I need to spell it out for you? I want you to want me! I _need_ you to need me! I’d love you to…”

_Oh… OH!_

Peter stifled a laugh, interrupting Wade’s surprisingly sincere retake of that old Cheap Trick song when he performed his own rendition of a 70’s song, with as much of a straight face as he could, “hey, little girl, I wanna be your boyfriend.”

Wade seemed frozen into place, both of his hands in the air between him and Peter and his expression one of sheer confusion. Peter shook his head, letting out another laugh, before taking Wade’s face into his hands and closing his lips around Wade’s opened mouth. Wade kissed him back, softly at first, but it significantly changed the moment Wade grabbed him by his behind and pushed him closer toward him, his palms squeezing Peter’s ass over his low hanging joggers. The merc was pressing his opened mouth to his so hard that Peter’s back had to lean a little backward. He was tasting a good deal of jam and peanut butter, an upgrade to his olive breath from that morning.

Peter detached their lips in a loud smacking sound to say after twisting his head to look behind him to where Wade’s hands were still clasped around his buttocks, “you’re getting peanut butter all over me!”

“But I wanted to mark my territory!” Wade retorted, a stupid smile on his face.

“Pfff, get off!” Peter shoved the taller man away, but it was quite unconvincing since he only ended up resting his hand on the man’s chest.

“That’s not what you said last night.”

“We didn’t finish the movie, did we?”

“No, but you did.”


	12. This is heavy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has a rough start to his Monday morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting a spideypool tattoo at the end of the month lol

Peter hadn’t expected to come face to face with a vampire of all things when he opened the door to his house, but he did. He would be lying if he said his first reflex hadn’t been to hit the unexpected character right in his ridiculous teeth, as it would have been way too embarrassing to admit that he very nearly sent his sixty years old uncle on the floor simply because the man had a black cape, white makeup and fake teeth on. The 18 years old had managed to catch the huge bowl full of candies that had slipped from his uncle’s hands upon being startled by Peter’s rude greeting before its content spilled onto the carpet.

Peter attributed that incident to the fact he was probably still tired from hanging out with Wade all day, which was a particular fact he didn’t admit to his aunt and uncle in the fear of seeing the look on their faces. And their inevitable questions. Maybe he simply shouldn’t have come back home in the middle of trick-or-treating for the kids in his neighborhood. Peter had never realized just how many children there actually was living there. He had to skirt around mini crowds of dressed up children on the street while wearing himself another and cleaner pair of Wade’s joggers, his backpack bouncing on his back. He was pretty sure he had hit the glasses off a kid disguised as Harry Potter with it, but he had been walking too fast to really tell.

Not that he and Wade had really done anything to tired him out more, physically speaking, anyway. Wade could be very tiresome and _was_ , but it was nothing compared to when he had plans on making Peter suffer from his dubious taste for anything in general. Not only did he forced him to “shake his booty”, his words, on _Girls Just Want to Have Fun_ when it “finally” came next on the disc, Wade had taken upon himself to convince him to stay the afternoon to finish what they had started that previous night. Not that the teenager had any plan on doing anything that day beside hanging around Wade’s apartment until he was forced to leave, but that particular thing that the man so desperately wanted them to finish was, of course, those goddamn awful _Leprechaun_ movies. And Peter had thought he was done forever with that series. The man wouldn’t shut up about it until Peter would sit his peanut buttered ass down on the couch next to his.

“It’s Halloween!” he had said over and over again like it was the one and only best argument he could found. And it most likely was. Peter had made a more or less successful attempt at shutting him up by, as a matter of fact, joining him on the couch, but purely with the plan of kissing Wade into convincing him to do something else of their day. Wade had actually kissed him back until they were both practically about to pass out and Peter could see stars moving under his eyelids. He thought Wade might have forgotten about his horrible idea of an afternoon, but apparently not as he had got up, still panting from their make out, to put the fourth movie in the series on, anyway.

Peter didn’t want to ask, but it was as if the older man was still trying to preserve Peter’s innocence or some stupid thing like that and was doing a very bad job at it. It was pretty contradictory with what was constantly coming out of his mouth, to be quite frank, and also, it was not like Wade had refrained his advances after they had made it official. On the contrary, it seemed like the guy’s vigor had been cranked up to one hundred, but just when it looked like they could be going further, Wade would stop it from happening altogether. He had done it at least three times in the course of that Saturday afternoon. It was confusing, to say the least. Especially so when Peter would look back to that moment when Wade had gone down on him before they had fallen asleep, entangled in the blankets and both exhausted from the quite stressful day they had just gone through. What was that, then?

Maybe that was the price to pay to be Wade’s boyfriend: a lot of confusion and frustration. Boyfriend. _Huh._ Simply thinking about it was sending a weird aching in his belly as he had to try incredibly hard not to allude to it every single time someone would address him. Not that he had come out of his room long enough that Sunday to really have the chance to do so, but that very Monday would be another story. Given the shit they had already given him, Peter would have to keep it a secret from Harry and Gwen, whom he had an embarrassing long joined skype conversation on Halloween night about how Peter’s dad wouldn’t have wanted him turning into a criminal for his sake and blah blah blah…

How would they know? His dad could have very well been a criminal during his lifetime for all they knew. Well, that was the impression he was starting to get. Secret files in a hidden briefcase, top-secret experiments, and sudden disappearance weren’t exactly helping his case. Who was to say Richard Parker hadn’t been a wanted outlaw when he was alive, which ultimately lead to his and his wife’s demise? It sounded like the kind of stories Peter would tell himself as a kid to help him cope with the fact that his parents had left him without so much of an explanation. His particular favorite had always been the ones where they were secret agents running away from the FBI or the CIA. In retrospect, it didn’t seem so far-fetched, now, curiously enough.

The dead spider that had stayed with him from the lab was still in the same small plastic bag he had put it in days ago in Wade’s kitchen. Not only did he couldn’t find any other cases resembling the tiniest bit like his, that Peter wasn’t really surprised, he never found anything on the kind of spiders he had encountered at Oscorp, like that one. Seemed like what they were doing in that secluded lab really was top-secret stuff no scientists really wanted to elaborate about to the public. Perhaps, Dr. Connors would talk to him. He was Richard Parker’s son, after all. The son of someone who the scientist clearly used to have a close working relationship with. Speaking of which, his dad’s files gave him some scientific insight into what was going on there. Maybe he could show them to Connors? He sure seemed the only one to him that could bring some light into all of this.

He didn’t think his two friends would react very well to the news about his new improbable abilities and even less to the one about his brand-new relationship. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing in both departments, so Peter judged it was better for himself, as well as for his friends, not to mention anything about it until he had this all figured out. At least Wade seemed as eager about that whole relationship thing as Peter was. He appeared to have stopped coming up with different words to call Peter, and he had a lot of those, to replace them all with ‘boyfriend’. He had called him many times throughout that whole Sunday with phony pretexts seemingly already in mind. Like when he had called to tell him about the one time he got stuck in a freezer pretending he was dead, or when he had seen that old lady walking down the street with a frog two years ago. All very compelling stories, but not ones that were exactly urgent for Peter to hear. He was happy for the bother, anyway.

The only reason why he wasn’t still on Wade’s couch or even experimentally, of course, climbing and crawling up his walls was for the simple reason that he had wanted to look into animal mutations without having his unruly boyfriend as one huge distraction. And also, he had school. And his aunt and uncle would probably start to wonder where he had gone after a while. Besides, Wade had some jobs do to himself.

Only once did he have an actual reason to call him. It was after Peter’s eyes had already started to burn from the hours of only staring at his computer screen searching about possible cases of spider bites like his. He had been surprised when he had received that particular call, expecting another one of Wade’s unwarranted anecdotes, but the man had instead reported him on what he had found out throughout his investigations about Peter’s problem. Apparently, Wade had been doing researches of his own between his phone calls to Peter and whatever the hell his mercenary duties implied. Terrifying teenagers, probably. He had gone so far as to ring up some “weirdos” who might have some ideas, with little to no avail. It was kind of sweet, even though the merc hadn’t found anything more than Peter already had. Well yeah, Wade was invested in it almost as much as Peter was by the sheer facts that he had sneaked into Oscorp by his side and was the only one who had to deal with the aftermath of a ‘changing’ Peter. And the 18 years old was kind of glad about that.

And apparently, according to Wade, that stressful event partook into bringing the two of them closer, so it wasn’t all bad, right? At least it was what the Merc was trying to convince him over the phone that Monday morning just before he had to leave for school. It was only after multiple mentions about homework and teenage turmoil, and after seeing Peter groaning loudly in annoyance at the way his tap stayed into his hand for the fourth times in the last two days, that Wade attempted at reassuring him.

“You can make it useful! You’re twice as fast and you’re a hunk now, so I’m sure you could at least make some money with it! By, like, doing some paid contests and shit. Maybe even rob some banks!”

He had FaceTime called him this time, despite the fact that it was nearly 8 am, with the need to see and unabashedly laugh at a drowsy and grouchy Peter having to get ready for school after a sleepless night of seeking unreasonable answers and running through his dad’s suspicious files. Peter could only see through his barely opened eyes the upper part of Wade’s face on the small screen of his phone that he had leaned against the bathroom mirror. Wade had one arm under his head as he appeared to be laying on his couch and scratching energetically behind his ear. While Peter had set his volume to low, Wade’s slightly canned voice was echoing brashly on the tiny bathroom’s walls.

“I do need the cash…” They were getting incredibly tight with money. Peter had overheard his aunt and uncle talking about it from the kitchen as they were standing at the top of the stairs. He hadn’t expected to hear them either, but now that his ears could pick up most of the little noise in the apartment, it was only a matter of time until he learned more than he asked for.

He could hear every single drop of water hitting the tile floor like they were someone loudly walking on a small puddle instead. The reflection Peter was seeing of himself was as clear as ever, despite his lack of contact lenses or glasses, and in spite of the weariness he could feel in every inch of his face. It was still weird to see that body attached to his head like he had borrowed somebody else’s more athletic and powerful one. Strange how he could feel like a stranger in his own body while being more aware of every single one of his limbs than he ever was at the same time. His brain still felt like complete mush, though, from that weekend. Worse than any other Monday mornings in his life.

When he looked back at his phone, he noticed that Wade had switched hand on his own phone, his whole face now visible to Peter. It stopped Peter in his train of thought as he opened his tired eyes a little wider to take a closer glance at his phone screen. “Wait, did you… Did you shave? And you cut yourself?”

Not a speck of facial hair could be seen on Wade’s jaw and neck anymore. It was strange to look at the man’s lips without it having some color around it. His skin looked as pink and soft as a peach, instead of the kiwi look Wade had going on. Although, there was a short red cut by his left cheekbone resembling a lot of the scratches he would see on his uncle Ben’s cheeks after a rough round of shaving.

“No, I – okay yes I shaved, but I didn’t cut myself, okay?” Peter listened to Wade as he quickly groggily fixed the tap and splashed some cold water on his face. He came back up with droplets rolling down to his neck and naked chest. It didn’t do much of a great job of waking him up, but it would have to do the job before he could find a huge cup of coffee to get down his throat. “That last hit was just a nightmare, man. The guy kept being difficult. Grabbing, rubbing, slapping… You know how it is.”

“Right. Was his name Razor?” Peter asked, unconvinced. But he did wince at the image that got into his head of Wade chocking to death some guy trying to pry himself free by desperately scratching at his face. He couldn’t help but root for the guy in his vision a little bit. Granted, he would gladly take a random dead criminal over a dead Wade any day.

After drying his watery face with a towel, Peter saw Wade’s slightly pixelated image scratching his immaculate cheek with a grimace. “I look dumb.”

“No, you just you just look a lot younger.” The more Peter looked at him through the small screen, the more he wanted to reach through it to touch the man’s smooth skin. “And a little weird. Are you sure that’s you?”

“I could pass as a high schooler and play your bodyguard,” Wade supposed, one pensive finger poking his chin as Peter made his way out of the bathroom. He hadn’t bother closing the door seeing as he had had enough of that stupid doorknob staying into his hand. He obviously didn’t have any control over his ‘super-force’ yet. “Oh, right. You don’t need one anymore. You better wipe the floor with that kid who broke your phone and send me the pictures, though.”

“You don’t look _that_ young. And Flash is still a lot bigger than me,” Peter whispered back, his cell phone up to his face, as he heard the sound of his aunt turning in her bed from down the hall.

“Yeah, but does he have spider-juice powers?”

“Hope not. That would considerably add a lot to my list of problems,” the younger man replied, throwing his phone on his bed without looking. It landed perfectly in the middle of it, the front-camera facing the ceiling and Peter being totally out of view of it. “And don’t say spider juice when I didn’t even have my coffee, yet.”

“But I guess you can’t call me daddy anymore,” Wade told the younger man, his tone way too regretful for it to be a joke on his part.

“I wouldn’t. At least I guess it's smooth and not all prickly, now.” The burning sensation of his lips brushing against the man’s stubble _was_ pretty hot, though, he had to admit. But he wasn’t going to confess that to Wade. He seemed to be regretting what he had done to his face enough.

“As smooth as a baboon’s ass, baby.”

Peter stripped off of his boxer and tossed them over his phone to the floor on the other side of his bed. “Sounds great.”

“Hey! Some people are trying to enjoy the show, here!” Wade obnoxiously exclaimed, his voice coming out of Peter’s cellphone almost stridently in the small bedroom.

Peter shushed him and uttered toward the general direction of his bed, “lower, man, you’re going to wake up my aunt!”

“I love me some illegal love.” Peter was putting on some blue tee-shirt from his floor and was about to pick his phone back up when Wade asked, sounding genuinely curious, “do they even know about me? Your aunt and uncle.”

Peter could hear his aunt May fully waking up, the springs of the bed jolting slightly under her as she appeared to be getting up. Her steps resonated down the hall as she slowly made her way to Peter’s bedroom.

“They know you exist, yes. You spoke with my uncle, remember?” he replied, his eyebrows frowned in confusion and finally looking again at his boyfriend’s pixelated image.

“Yeah, but do they know about _me_?”

He didn’t have the time to come up with an answer to Wade’s question before both May and Wade called to him at the same time, his aunt’s low tired voice coming from the other side of his door, “Peter?” However, only his aunt continued by asking, “Peter, what are you still doing here? It’s ten past eight!”

He looked up the time on his phone, his eyes growing two sizes before he jumped over his computer chair to pick up his backpack. “Damn! I’m late for school!”

“Well, have a good day at school, honey!” Peter’s left hand still holding his cell phone felt the vibration of Wade’s sudden high-pitched voice under his fingers.

Peter only groaned unhappily in response, putting on a random vest in his closet before throwing his bag over his shoulder. But he then questioned the other man, “what are _you_ gonna do, today?”

“I don’t got anything planned. Going with the flow, you know. Have a bath in my own filth, or maybe jerk off to Orgazmo. Very sexy stuff.”

“Good for you, man,” the teenager snorted out as he picked his skateboard to stuck it between his shoulder straps. “Talk to you later.”

Wade was noisily smooching the camera when Peter ended the call while hastily exiting out of his room. His aunt was still on the other side of the door, hugging her dressing gown around herself. She seemed surprised and a bit startled at the sudden way her nephew pecked her cheek and hurried past her down the stairs.

“Don’t forget your lunch!” she called after him, leaning against the rail to look down at him as he put on his shoes.

The bus stop was empty when he got to it. He could see the yellow bus turning down the street and hear the sound of its wheels scraped against gravel far away into the distance with his hope to get to his first class on time.

“Shoot…” he muttered to himself.

He pulled out his skateboard, ready for a long hour of chasing after a fast-moving bus. It wouldn’t be the first time. But he hadn’t broken so much of a sweat on his way there, very unlike the other times where he had reluctantly resulted into calling his uncle, out of breath from the short sprint, to pick him up and drive him to school. He wasn’t going to do that, this time. Wasn’t he super-sized now, as Wade had mentioned once during one of their many conversations over the phone? Surely, he could get there in time if he really wanted to. He hadn’t got the chance to fully test out his ‘powers’ yet. He didn’t know what he was waiting for. Perhaps he was lingering too much on trying to understand rather than exploiting his new potential. Wasn’t that what Connors was hoping with his experiments, though? To see human exploit their full capacities and more? Peter hopped on his skateboard with that thought in mind, but rather weary at the other rather disconcerting thoughts that kept popping up in his head.

 _At the end of the day, you’re basically a science subject,_ Peter thought. _You got to talk to him_. It was crazy to think about. He couldn’t let himself enjoy his unfamiliar aptitudes too much before talking to the guy.

But he also kind of wanted to test out how fast he could actually get now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tooth-rotting fluff before the shitstorm ;)


	13. The Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter tries to jungle life and unusual secrets.

Peter’s foot was moving faster on the ground below him than his brain could fully realize. He felt like a video game character, rolling down the street between the early passersby on the sidewalk, dodging every single one of them in his way as if they had been moving at a snail pace. Which they actually were. Compared to him, at least. His reflex was acting up so quick that it felt like he didn’t have to think before making his next move. He was tempted to grab onto some car’s bumper, like in the movies, but, to his amazement, that would only slow his pace down.

The sun was hiding under a covered sky. November hadn’t quite settled yet, but he could feel the chilly wind blowing mightily against his face at his speed. He had taken another path from the one his bus took every morning, and to his unawareness, he had taken the lead a long time ago. Peter only knew when he pulled up to the school main stairs, jumping off of his board as he looked behind him for the bus that was nowhere in sight. Two students, previously leaning heavily on the rail, separated their embrace upon his abrupt appearance on the staircase next to them.

He had the time to get to his locker, take out his books for his class and get to his seat in math class before the bell had even rung. Harry seemed quite surprised when he entered the room not long after him among a group of other students, rightfully so given the fact that Peter was usually in the midst of the last few students to arrive. Harry didn’t say anything to Peter, only giving him a nod in his direction with a small smile, which was really not out of the ordinary. Gwen, though. had appeared even more surprised than Harry to see him nonchalantly sitting in science in his usual seat. Peter couldn’t be sure since she hadn’t said anything to him beside a short “hi, you” before taking her place next to him, but he suspected that she assumed he would skip school, for some reason.

Only an hour or so had passed before his soupcons were ultimately confirmed when she turned to Peter at the sound of the bell ringing all around the school.

“Didn’t think you would show up,” Gwen said between pursed lips as he was tidying her notes into a neat pile to stitch them to then put them away into her big blue binder. It was all while the other students were quickly and noisily leaving the room for lunch around them.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked in return, not really shocked at Gwen’s comment, but slightly confused, nonetheless. Peter had gotten up of the uncomfortable plastic chair and already had his backpack behind his shoulder, still a bit stunned by the sound of the bell still echoing in his sensitive ears.

He was looking down at her when Gwen calmly responded to him, not meeting his eyes, “well, I thought you had other preoccupations, now. That’s all.”

To be fair, he had been too engrossed in decoding some of his father’s complex equations, that he had yet to figure out, to really pay attention to the actual science lesson happening in front of him for the last hour and a half.

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I go to school?” Peter then replied, not so sure about what she meant exactly by that reasoning of hers.

She was putting all of her stuff into a brown shoulder bag, her expression unreadable as she followed Peter out of the room to the crowded hallway where the sound of laughers and closing lockers were very prominent.

“So, you’re not too busy breaking into Oscorp, nowadays?”

So, it seemed like Harry and Gwen had been talking. And moreover, that they basically had prepared the same jab to give him. Although Gwen’s was said in a much more sarcastic fashion.

“I said I was sorry! And it’s not like I didn’t have any reason, you know that. We talked about that!”

Gwen stopped in her track, both of her fingers gripping tightly into the faux leather of her bag. “I could have gotten fired!”

“I know… But nobody saw us. I don’t think.”

He was pretty sure both him and Wade would be in jail right now if that was the case. Or maybe even already out, considering the fact that Wade seemed very much like the kind of guy who could break out of any facilities under twenty-four hours of being detained. According to Peter, anyway, he did. Maybe he was giving too much credit to the Merc, but he was certainly clever and crazy enough for that sort of thing. Peter didn’t share that thought with his friend, though. Despite his strong desire to do so. He also had to refrain himself from texting his boyfriend right then and there to see if he was right, but he had a feeling Gwen wouldn’t take that too well right in the middle of their conversation.

Gwen had proceeded her walking, Peter following suit. “That’s not the problem and you know it! I could still get fired, you know?”

“Harry wouldn’t let that happen.”

“What wouldn’t I let happen?” Harry, who they had been slowly approaching as he was waiting for the two at Peter’s locker, leaning his entire upper body against it.

“You wouldn’t fire her, right?” Peter addressed his question to Harry as he unlocked the combination to his locker.

“I’m not in charge, _yet_ , you know.” Peter couldn’t help the awkward grimace that sneaked onto his face that was thankfully hidden inside of his locker. “But, no.”

Harry squeezed Gwen’s shoulder reassuringly while Peter took out the lunch that he had, thanks to his aunt, grabbed before running out of the door that morning. When he looked back at them, closing the metallic door behind him, he could very clearly discern a look of unabashed relief on the blonde’s face.

As the three were walking up side by side to the jam-packed cafeteria, Peter remarked Harry’s eying him curiously up and down. He recoiled a bit from the attention, tightening his grip on his backpack’s strap nervously. It was difficult to concentrate when his ears had now started buzzing as if he had just stepped into a giant-sized wasp’s nest.

“You’re taller.” Harry pointed Peter to Gwen and asked her as if he hadn’t been standing there between them, “doesn’t he look taller?”

“I think it’s the guilt,” Gwen replied, one side of her lips tugged upward in a little playful smile as she sat at the end of one long half-busy table, quickly joined by the two others.

“Lay off, oh my god…”

It was only on Wednesday, after their last class of that day, that Gwen made an allusion to his “illegal activities” again. It was a small one, a trivial mention at that. To further a joke at Peter’s expense, he believed, but Peter had been too busy fleeing to care. Both Gwen and Harry had watched him jumped off the side of the main staircase outside of their school to prevent himself from being seen by Flash’s eyes. They hadn’t truly understood why and exactly where he had gone all of the sudden, at first, joking about that until they too finally noticed Flash standing at the bottom of the stairs. At least, that was what Peter assumed happened when he heard their laughs dying out abruptly.

Peter had instinctively jumped over the rail, as though an electric shock had passed and raised the hair behind his neck and of his arms. It was a very small fall of maybe two meters. His feet had landed silently on the grass below, his back to the grey concrete and hidden from Flash and the other people walking down the stairs, including his two friends. The worryingly tall teenager was standing in the perfect center of the last step, forcing many other students to get around him to pass. He was speaking loudly to another daft looking teenager wearing a cap backward on his large head. Peter could hear their obnoxious laughs from his covered position.

The problem was that those two took the same stupid bus as him, and Peter wasn’t so thrilled to have paper balls and pencils being thrown at the back of his head today. Flash hadn’t been anywhere to be found all throughout Monday. If so, Peter would have known, since it very much seemed like the guy enjoyed taking out his hatred of Mondays on him. On Tuesday, though, Peter had successfully avoided him, taking his skateboard to rapidly move around the school’s hallways. It was kind of a miracle he hadn’t been caught by either Flash nor by any teachers or supervisors, as he was used to. He had also used to get back home, ignoring the unpleasant calls thrown at him from the moving bus before he could take another cut far away from it.

He felt like nothing but a coward. Hiding under there in the shadow. Waiting for his long-time perpetrator to leave. The thought occurred that he could actually get back to Flash, now that he was… whatever the hell that he was. Peter could feel strength powering through his body, clouding his head with an energy he had never felt before Oscorp. It was like the sort of uncanny rush he would get when he would hung upside down by the force of his body and the new proprieties of his skin. He _could_ climb back up there and catch Flash by surprise when he clearly wasn’t expecting it. Like right now.

One of Peter’s palm rested on the concrete wall behind him. It stuck to it. He listened to Flash’s voice, feeling the hard matter break under his fingers as he squeezed it with no other purpose but to remind himself that he had the power to do so.

 _No_ , he thought, retracting his hand off the wall as he tried to regain his composure. _It’s not worth it._

It wasn’t worth getting detentions for. Or losing the respect of his friends, for that matter. He certainly had lost some of it in the past few days, to begin with, and he wasn’t ready to lose some more of it, yet. Well, he guessed he could keep that up until he breaks the news to them about him being in a relationship with a mercenary, whom they already had reservations about. Peter could hear their fast moving steps above his head. Everything had happened in such a short amount of time that Harry and Gwen barely had the time to reach the end of the stairs before Peter had already made up his mind.

He was pretty sure there would have been a ridiculous amount of blood on his hand if he were to have taken a piece of concrete off of a staircase, in the same exact way, a month ago, but that was only speculation, of course. However, there was no trace on his palm that would suggest he had done such thing, similar to the situation he had back at Wade’s apartment with his wooden bathroom counter. The man still hadn’t blamed him for that, funnily enough. Peter was undoubtedly just lucky that Wade’s bathroom had already been sort of a mess.

At last, Harry and Gwen turned around the corner, their angry eyes directed behind them at Flash, who had saluted them with a sarcastic smile. Peter pretended to be nonchalantly waiting for them by the stairs, his back and a foot leaning against the hard wall, covering the hole that he had made, and his arms crossed on his chest.

“What the hell, Pete?”

“Since when are you that fast?”

Peter shrugged in response, pushing himself off the surface with his foot. He then gave them somewhat of a reply, shrugging another time under his friend’s dumbfounded eyes, “practice?”

They had accepted it as a response, as shocking as it was to Peter.

“Only some more months before we’re done with this place,” Gwen said, as they were watching, some minutes later, Harry being pulled up into a luxurious black car, his stern chauffeur closing the door behind him.

“Yeah,” he agreed. They were only two months into that semester and it already felt like it had gone on for a whole year.

His uncle, a pen hanging from his mouth and his reading glasses hanging low on his nose, was scanning through newspapers at the kitchen table when Peter stepped inside the house not much later, skateboard in hand. He could hear his aunt tossing clothes into the washing machine in the very small room left to the fridge. She was clumsily humming a song the young man didn’t recognize. Ben mumbled a hello to Peter without looking up from his task as Peter ditched his backpack and his board on the entrance’s carpet. He took a few huge steps toward the fridge, opening it eagerly. Once he had a piece or two or baloney in his mouth, he slammed the door shut.

Interrupted in her singing, his aunt May turned around, one of her hands already holding a pair of Ben’s underwear clutched to her heart. “Oh, Peter! You’re here early.”

Peter did arrive home a lot earlier than she was used to. He had beaten his score of the week, managing to get home under ten minutes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to take any buses ever again without getting too annoyed, from now on.

“Sorry I startled you, Aunt May. I know it’s not good for you guys’ age.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker!” she exclaimed at his playful remark. Ben had started chuckling quietly on his pen.

Peter let himself being slapped once on the chest by his aunt with a pair of his uncle’s dirty boxer before he fled the kitchen and went up to his room, sniggering on the apple he had picked from the kitchen’s counter on his exit.

Peter only had the time to close his door behind him and get out of his vest before his phone started chanting in his back pocket. He took another bite out of his apple, letting it stuck between his teeth as he answered Wade’s call with haste. The man had insisted on him using a special ringtone for him that consisted solely of the entirety of the song _Daddy Cool_. It was that or _Pony_ if he remembered correctly. Peter had obliged for the one clear and simple reason that he had been too comfortably laid down on Wade’s couch at that moment to fight it.

Wade’s face appeared on the small screen, the bright yellowish light from the room he was in casting weird shadows on it and gave his skin that yellowish color as well. Some light stubble had started to grow back on his chin and cheeks. He had his hideous red coat on that Peter recognized by the beige fur hugging the older man’s neck. Only, the younger man wasn’t at all familiar with Wade’s surroundings. But it could very well be in Wade’s apartment for all he knew since all he was able to take a glimpse of was of a green wall. Peter propelled himself onto his bed, an arm between his head and his pillow. He went at it so hard that he heard a crack coming from his bedframe.

“What’s up, boyfriend? I had an idea.”

“If it’s about that thing about me eating flies, you can forget it.”

Peter had received some unique, to say the least, texts during that previous morning from Wade about why he should try eating flies to get “the full spider experience” and maybe “gain more powers.” Wade had seemed persuaded, for some reason that completely escaped Peter’s comprehension. Nevertheless, it was most likely the closest Wade could ever come up with a science experiment.

“No, no, it’s about that Connors thing! I know you wanna go to his house and talk to him, but _what if_ I go through his shit while you talk to him?” Wade suggested, his voice echoing weirdly.

Tomorrow was the day Peter had chosen to send a little visit to the scientist responsible for his state. Wade had been insisting on assisting him since the moment Peter had mentioned it to him over the phone that previous night. “We’re a team!” he had said. To be fair, Peter could admit that they indeed had been a pretty good team back at Oscorp. But since this time there was no need for any breaking into or some sort of infiltration, he judged it was better for him to go alone.

“Wade, I don’t need to do that. All I want is talk to him.”

“If you’re going to go to the guy’s house, at least take full advantage of being there. Or maybe we could…”

“No, we’re not taking him hostage in his own home.” Peter lifted his head from his arm a little, glancing at his bedroom door. He thought he could hear his uncle walking in his and May’s bedroom only one room away. That wouldn’t exactly have been an ideal time for his aunt and or uncle to overhear his conversation. To his luck, they would probably end up thinking he was turning into a criminal too.

“Are you still sure spiders don’t have telekinesis powers?”

Peter sighed in an undefining mix of endearment and exasperation, letting his head rest on the pillow again. Wade’s head slightly shifted to the left just enough to allow Peter to notice the flash of the phone number of a certain ‘Odessa’ and the drawing of a hanging stickman both done in black sharpie on the wall behind him.

“I’m beginning to know you, that’s all,” he retorted. Wade offered him a silly smile. “I took a piece out of the school staircase, today.”

“Very nice. Show it who’s the boss.”

Peter heard very clearly the sound of a toilet flushing successively and aggressively in the distance, and definitely not coming from his end of the call. He paused, expressionlessly staring into Wade’s impassive hazel eyes as the other man did the same as though he was waiting for Peter to comment on what they had both just heard.

“Are you- are you in a public bathroom?”

“Yes?” Wade answered, only now choosing to whisper.

The young man shook his head in bemusement. “I’m not even gonna a-”

Peter’s back straightened up on his bed as he heard his uncle’s steps getting closer and closer in the hallway until it stopped right in front of his closed door. He had already jumped out of his bed to instead go sit at his computer chair when his uncle’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Peter? Who are you talking to?”

His phone was propped at the bottom of his computer screen where Wade could still see him. He hadn’t locked his door and soon enough, there was Ben’s head pocking out from the short gap he had created.

“Oh. You’re alone?”

“I’m, uh, on the phone, Uncle Ben,” Peter answered, fondling out of nervousness with the pink ruler on his desk as Ben nodded. But he stayed there. In fact, he entered the bedroom completely, one hand around the doorknob and his eyes staring inquisitively in turn at Peter and his phone.

Peter glanced himself at Wade’s pixelated image on the screen. Wade had apparently decided it was the best moment to open his mouth to say, “hey, mister P!”

The grey-haired man adjusted the glasses on his nose as he squinted at the phone screen where Wade was seen waving enthusiastically at the camera, and Peter was just about to combust in embarrassment. “Nate, wasn’t it?”

“It’s Wade. Now, can you…” Peter hurriedly told the elderly man now leaning over his shoulder with a hand at the back of his chair.

“Oh, yeah, that’s right! You’re Peter’s special friend!”

Peter’s eyes grew wider as he muttered to nobody in particular, mortified, “special friend?”

“You bet I am!”

Peter looked at Ben from his peripheral vision as the man turned his head to address him. “Ask him if he’s free on Friday. Your aunt is making her special cherry pie and she’s been meaning to ask you about your friend.”

“He can hear you, Uncle Ben.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Sorry, I don’t know much about video chatting. I’m not like Peter here with his gadgets,” Ben explained to Wade’s pixelated image, speaking a bit too loud for Peter’s ears’ liking.

“He has never shown me his gadgets!”

What followed was a relatively long silence of five or six seconds where Peter’s whole face cringed up, almost painfully so. The two others seemed just fine, as a matter of fact, it appeared to that Peter was the only one in the room that realized the awkwardness of the situation. All he needed was his aunt to barge into his bedroom, as well, and everything would be _perfect_.

“Well. I hope to see you Friday, Wade!” Ben called rather loudly to Peter’s phone before walking away, closing the door behind him with an innocent smile on his face.

_Next time I’m locking the door._

Peter hadn’t moved from his chair, his mouth slightly opened for nothing to come out and his eyebrows frowned deeply in confusion as he tried to register what had just happened.

“Pete. Peter!” Wade called for his attention. “You’ll catch flies, spider-boy.”


	14. Whop-eesh!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade has sweaty balls and is May and Ben’s son, now.

“Yo Weas, would you trust me with your nephew?”

Wade hit the counter with his palm hard to gain the bartender’s attention. He had his back to him as he was marking off someone’s name off the dead pool under the victorious howls of some beaten up guys standing over the bleeding and inert body of some tall dude laying on the ground between two occupied tables.

When Weasel deigned turned his attention to him, Wade was only met with a grimace of blatant disgust and surprise as though _he_ was the corpse he would have to clean up at some point. “Woah, what did you do to your face?”

A few others guys in the bar had turned to him, as well. A just about decrepit man tattooed from head to toe who was sat on a stool close to them even went as far as to bring his head closer to Wade to search for what Weasel was talking about. Wade recoiled slightly, glancing at the bartender over the counter with a stinky eye as he raised the collar of his jacket a little bit.

“Shut up, it’s already growing back.”

It was enough that his face felt stupidly itchy, he didn’t need anyone to comment on his regrettable esthetic choices. Unless he was barging into the place asking for it, as he was now. However, he wasn’t worrying too much about his lack of facial hair, since the cleaner he would look the better really, but then again, he had no fucking clue which clothes you were supposed to wear when having dinner with your boyfriend’s surrogate parents for the first time. Was there something specific like that somewhere?

“Your face hadn’t seen the light of the day in a long ass time. Did your butt boy made you do that?”

Wade glanced at the old tattooed man to his left sideways as he heard him letting two repulsively approving moans at Weasel’s words. The Merc made sure that the bartender was looking at him before not so discretely motioning to the weird man and then to the dead pool board behind the bar. Weasel gave him a quick nod with raised eyebrows as he wrote something that quite resembled a name on his palm with a black marker he kept in the inside pocket of his plaid shirt.

“Do you think I should have worn a suit?” Wade then inquired to his friend, his tone urgent. He wasn’t technically late, but he guessed it was better to hurry before he ended being. His entire body was leaning against the bar counter with his right elbow as he looked down at his attire. “I don’t have a suit, though.”

He wasn’t actually wearing anything special. On the contrary, Wade might have tried so hard to find something decent from his chaotic bedroom floor that he actually might be looking trashier than he had originally intended. His gear purely consisted of a tee-shirt he thought Peter would like, which had a drawing of a miserable looking taco on it that also had the quote “Every now and then I fall apart” above it underneath the only warm jacket he owned and ironically one that Peter seemed to hate, as well as a pair of dark blue trousers he had never gotten rid of after he had once stolen it from a business guy as a joke. The more he looked down at himself, he reckoned that it was not exactly something somebody more respectable than him would wear on that particular occasion. At least he had left behind that multicolor hat he had won at a fair that one time and never wore that he had considered way too seriously and for way too long before stepping out the door.

Wade looked around the room searching for the attention of the depressing looking killers drinking and arguing around the bar, and asked them at the top of his voice, “does anyone have a suit I could borrow?”

To Wade’s disappointment, he only received one positive feedback that wasn’t a middle finger or a loud annoyed grunt followed by spitting on the ground. One scrawny dude slopped over the pool table answered to his request by shooting something about some store he used to go to for “special occasion clothes”. If it wasn’t from the two animals fucking on the dude’s tee-shirt Wade spotted once he straightened away from the pool table, he might actually have _considered_ considering that input.

Wade send him some vague rebuffing gestures of his hand and shakes of his head before he turned his body back toward the counter and Weasel with an aggravated sigh and widen eyes. “We’ll have to go without that.”

Weasel was looking at him in disbelief when he said, “I’ve never seen you go to that extend for a hit. Why is that even _I_ don’t know the details of it?”

Wade lifted his head, genuinely confused as to what Weasel meant by that statement. But if his proud smirk was anything to go by, the guy clearly thought he had uncovered some top-secret shit.

“What?”

“That’s all part of a job, isn’t? You’ve been fucking with me, right?”

“You think I would be sweating like that for a job? I’m sweating down to my fucking balls!”

Wade opened his vest for Weasel to reveal to him the copious amount of sweat that had accumulated under his armpits and down his neck, and ultimately soaked through his grey tee-shirt.

“Uh, okay, so, you really are just that fucking whipped?” Weasel interrupted himself to make a whip sound, not without forgetting to include the hand motion to go with it, but asked directly after that with a dumb look on his face, “like that?”

Wade failed at not sounding miserable when he revealed, “I’m supposed to eat with his family tonight. His uncle invited me and all.”

Weasel’s expression turned into one of pity as he looked down at Wade.

“Oh, so you’re scared they’re gonna go, like, _yelp_ , that old guy is really fucking our nephew?” Wade didn’t reply and kept his stare on the counter in front of him. Something Weasel saw in Wade’s facial expression made him asked next, “want a drink?”

“Give me one shot,” Wade assented, plopping down on the tool to his right that had been digging into his right thigh since he got there.

“But I don’t understand. Doesn’t your Peter guy want someone that won’t die of old age while he’s turning thirty?” Weasel said once the burning liquid was down Wade’s throat. It didn’t do anything to appease his nerves.

Wade wordlessly gestured to Weasel for another shot.

Once he got that second one down his throat and had wiped his chin with the back of his hand, he let out while getting up, ready to leave the place, “when was the last time someone wanted to fuck you?”

“Fair enough. Have a good night, lover boy.”

 

*

 

There was an enticing scent of food coming from the opened windows of the houses on the same street as the Parkers’. Apart from the tall street lights, it was already pitch-black outside as Wade walked through the empty street, the humid and chilly air blowing faintly against his exposed face and ruffling his short hair. Wade’s hands were buried deep inside of the fuzzy pockets of his jacket, his fingers fiddling with the soft tissue had been falling apart there along the years. He ended up digging a hole into one of them once he got to the household he was meant to go to.

He could see the Parkers’ nicely lit dining room through the window from his spot on the sidewalk. From what the Merc could see, the table was already set, with colored napkins with patterns on it and everything. Wade’s shoes scraped against the concrete underneath him as he hesitated to walk any closer to the place.

 _You’ve already been there, what the fuck are you waiting for?_ he thought impatiently to himself, his bottom lip nervously stuck between his teeth. His eyebrows frowned together in a mix of nervousness and overwhelming uneasiness as his eyes roamed over the nauseatingly homey residence. _I didn’t bring any flowers, should I had brought flowers? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?_ he then pondered to himself, looking around him to the other front yards for any kind of flowers or plants he could borrow. From what he could see with the poor lighting, there were some dying flowers leading the path to the front door of Peter’s right neighbor. Wade went to pick up a bunch under the moonlight, having to brush some deteriorating bright orange petals from his clothes and keep low as to not be seen by the old woman he could see reading on a chair by the window.

He vigorously cleared his throat and took one huge step toward the front door to the Parkers, deflating almost immediately at the brief sight of Peter’s uncle walking in front of the window. _Get it together, shithead!_

Why was it so hard? Perhaps, it was the alarming fact that he had never once in his life met the parents of someone he was dating, let alone before reaching fifth base. Well, it was kind of his fault that they hadn’t, anyway. It didn’t if it had been cold feet or simply the fact that he hadn’t wanted to rush the guy too much after only just pushing the relationship card on him. He was still only 18, after all. But now he couldn’t bring himself to walk up and knock on the front door of his house like a normal person. So, he did what he knew well. _Fuck it._ Flowers secured in his jacket’s pocket, Wade took a huge leap on the brick wall to the side of the house to pry himself up, helped by the strong kick he gave to it, and successfully grabbed onto the outside of Peter’s opened bedroom window. The light coming from the room was blinding Wade’s vision a bit as both of his arms strained from the effort to bring his weight up and inside the room.

Still, his feet didn’t have the time to touch the floor before something caused his entire body to fall onto the hard surface and break the air out of his lungs. Wade’s head hit the floor and he was met with shod feet. He had barely had the time to register what had happened before there was a panicked Peter hovering above him on his knees. It was only then that it occurred to the Merc that, _maybe_ , he should have thought about it twice before making a surprise entrance into the young man’s bedroom. Especially now that there were apparently ‘super-powers’ involved.

“What the hell, Wade, I could’ve killed you!”

“And I would kill for you, sweetie,” Wade replied to Peter but then let out a grunt of pain once he managed to lift his upper body with the help of his elbows and Peter’s right hand on his shoulder. Wade smiled up at the other man. “Now, how is a beautiful person like you doing on a delicious Friday night?”

Peter gave him an incredulous look before offering him a fond apologizing smile before cradling Wade’s jaws into his hands and placing a long kiss on his lips. Wade didn’t dare move anything apart for his mouth as to not unbalance Peter and, also, in the hope not to worsen the pain of his ass and back. It was difficult, though, seeing as it had seemed so long since they had last been in the same room, let alone being able to touch. His head leaned forward against Peter’s as he deepened the kiss. He shuddered slightly at the light touch of Peter’s fingers running down his neck and the feel of his tongue lightly brushing his. He was willing to let Peter push him onto a hard-wooden floor every day if it meant it was always going to lead to this, as fucking pathetic as it sounded. He would have to make sure his future drunken self never mentioned anything to Weasel about this.

“It’s already itchy,” Peter pouted, parting away. He had started rubbing the irritated skin of his face that stayed only a few inches away from Wade’s when the latter opened his eyes again.

“Well, sorry you couldn’t even get an advantage out of it,” Wade whispered back, sounding apparently so genuinely contrite that it granted him another delightfully long kiss from Peter.

The skin around the younger man’s mouth was an angry red once they parted for good. While Wade didn’t have the opportunity to run his hand like he had wanted, Peter’s hair was styled as if he had just rolled out of bed to tackle Wade. He was only wearing a graphic t-shirt that made the two of them looked like they were part of some nerdy group in high school or something, only his had a jokey answer to a math problem on it, and some tight enough pale blue jeans to make Wade resist the urge to take on the challenge to take them off as quick as possible. His naked arms were revealing some impressively defined muscles there that the older man had bizarrely forgotten about. Wade could almost feel his mouth watering at the way Peter’s fingers clutched to the front of his jacket to pull him up without so much of a struggle. He barely had the time to stop himself from giggling like some teenage girl who liked being tossed around before Peter started smoothening his clothes.

_Thank you, spider Jesus._

An apologetic look had gotten back on Peter’s face when he looked up at Wade, who had been cracking his back with a grimace, but it disappeared into one of amused surprise when he noticed the flowers sticking out from one of the Merc’s pocket. Wade followed Peter’s eyes on his jacket and finally became aware that, while the flowers were badly crushed, most of them had fallen out from the hole in his pocket when making his way up the window.

_Stupid fuck._

He took the three remaining flowers out to pat Peter’s chest with them. Some dry orange petals were falling at their feet when Wade said, “I also lost some on my way there, sorry.”

Peter grabbed them from Wade’s hand and retorted, “aw man, you stole Miss Frigg her calendulas!”

“Miss Frigg her what now?”

“Never mind,” Peter laughed out as he set them down on his desk among the papers there covered in mostly unreadable scribbles. In fact, the desk, as well as the floor around it, was practically overflowed with the same thing, only there was a lot more crumpled paper balls. It reminded him Wade like a brick to the head of the plan Peter had made for that previous day.

“So, did you send your little visit to Doc. Skywalker, after all?”

“Actually, yeah, I did…” Peter trailed off. He was looking hesitantly down at his desk, not looking so sure about what to tell him.

“So…?” Wade pushed further.

Peter had started pacing around Wade in the small room. “He wants me to come to see him at the Tower sometime after school.”

“That sounds pervy as hell, Pete,” Wade told him, but his eyes widen even more at what it could also imply. “Did you tell him about- you know- you?”

“No! Of course not, no.” Peter appeared a little tense when he stopped his pacing to look up and meet Wade’s eyes. “But I did ask him about the other _subjects_ , though, and well… all I can say is that they didn’t survive.”

He had finished that sentence with a little nervous laugh while the Merc opened his mouth in outrage to retort, “well, he’s a fucking moron if he thinks you’re gonna drop dead anytime soon…”

But before he could elaborate on his threat, Wade was interrupted by the door of the bedroom opening slowly to their right.

“Peter! Supper is…” Ben’s voice was cut short once he opened wide the door to Peter’s bedroom and saw the Merc standing right in the middle of it.

Both of Wade and Peter’s head turned in unison to the new intruder. Wade saw Peter jumped a bit more far away than a normal person would have, but thankfully Peter’s uncle appeared too shocked to see Wade here to notice the abnormal hop his nephew had achieved. Wade wasn’t so sure it would have been the same if Peter had ended up on all four up on the ceiling like he had the bad habit to do so when startled. Nonetheless, his uncle had been lucky enough not to have been tackled to the ground like he had been.

“Both of you don’t know how to knock?” the 18 years old complained to the two other men, aggravated, as he took the few steps back toward Wade where he had been standing mere seconds ago.

It was like Wade’s heels were stuck into place. He had started sweating harder standing there under Ben’s stare than he had been through that whole stressful hell of a day. He hadn’t blink once as he tried to hold the elderly man’s eyes like it was some kind of competition to win over the other’s respect. While he had encountered the man on multiple occasions by now, that time felt way too fucking different and vital, even. For Wade, anyway.

Ben dropped his hand from the doorknob to instead present it to the Merc, which the latter remarked he hadn’t done the first time they had met. It intensely solidified Wade’s belief as his entire body turned into a furnace and his mouth stiffened into a weird frozen close-mouthed smile.

“I never heard you come in?”

_Hi, sir, I wanna pound your nephew later!_

Wade gulped loudly and replied in a tone he hoped the man would consider as polite and not at all crass like the response he was dying to give instead and that he was pretty sure Peter would have thrown him out of the window for, “I know how to be discrete, sir.”

He squeezed Ben’s hand like the future of his relationship depended on it. Maybe if he had a strong enough handshake it would mean for the man that he was worthy to be his nephew’s boyfriend, or to be standing in his house at all?

“You got a good grip on you, son!”

“Everyone always says that.”

“We were not sure you would come. Peter didn’t seem so sure himself!” Wade’s head turned to Peter who gave him with a repentant shrug. “Well, I hope you like meatballs! Or don’t say anything about it to May,” Ben continued, finishing his sentence by winking and freeing his hand from Wade’s tight grip.

“I sure do!”

Ben walked out of the room without closing the door behind him, expecting the two other men to follow him down the stairs.

“I really should think about locking my door more often.”

“You and your gadgets.”

Wade went up to the self-made device allowing the young man to lock and unlock his door from distance only to finger the controller until he got his hand taken away. Peter must have seen something in his demeanor, or maybe read his thoughts, since he didn’t take his hand away from Wade’s and enfolded it with his, instead, and whisper to him in a conspiratorial tone, “you can still go out the window if you want.”

Wade scoffed at him before declaring a tad too loudly for their current conversation, “Nah, I’m good. I’m good! I’ve had to deal with way worse things.”

“Okay. But can you at least take this off, please?” Peter requested gently, pinching one sleeve of Wade’s red jacket hard enough to lift his arm in the air.

Wade didn’t answer and silently took the piece of clothing off, exhaling in relief at the wave of cool air his sweaty skin received upon been freed at last. He threw it behind him to the teenager’s unmade bed where there already were some dirty clothes lying at its foot.

“Want to undress me already, I see,” Wade mentioned, half-serious, groping Peter’s ass before he could get away while sending him a smile he hoped he would consider seductive. “Wanna go to my place after this?”

“If you behave,” the other man replied over his shoulder, prying himself away to then make his way out of the room.

Wade’s eyes on Peter’s back slightly widened in surprise as he hurried to catch up to him to the set of stairs. If he had tail he was pretty certain it would have perked up in interest.

As they were both walking down the stairs, Peter took the conversation back from before they were interrupted back in his room by rapidly whispering, his head close to the other man, “I told Connors about the decay rate algorithm. He also thinks that what’s had been causing all those failures. We’re gonna use my dad’s researches to make tests and improve what hadn’t been working until now.”

“I didn’t understand anything apart from _my dad_.”

The sound of plates being set down on the kitchen table could be heard from where they were. When they turned the corner, Peter’s aunt was putting down the last plate full of pasta and brimming with tomato sauce and meatballs in front of a thankful Ben. Upon the couple’s arrival, May turned to them with a kind smile that Wade tried to reciprocate without looking too constipated. Which, he _really,_ really wasn’t, judging by the way his body had turned against him all day long.

“Do you want some wine, Wade?” the woman asked him as she went to the kitchen to pick up what he assumed was the wine bottle.

_None of that disgusting shit._

“I wouldn’t wanna make little Petey over here jealous,” Wade replied to her, illustrating his point by patting an annoyed Peter on the head.

May laughed softly and replied while pouring Wade a copious glass of red wine, “he will survive.”

May was still chuckling when she came back from the kitchen to sat by her husband. Wade sat down beside Peter. He had never taken much attention of what the inside of the Parkers’ house looked like, always too busy bothering Peter up in his room. Like the outside, it was fairly small but sickeningly cozy and homey, especially so with the scent of warm food all around them. In all honesty, he couldn’t actually remember the last time he had eaten a homemade meal that wasn’t just him eating alone some takeovers in his apartment. He had to apply some exemplary effort not to sip on the spaghettis hanging from his fork when he brought the first bite to his mouth like the others were doing.

Wade didn’t remember his childhood home having any photographs on the walls, aside maybe from the flimsy posters he kept in his bedroom. A cheap painting of some animals hanging out on a field was hanging on the wall beside them. There were a lot of pictures hanging on the walls in frames, as well, most of them depicting a younger stage of Peter’s life like school pictures and such. One where a twelve years old Peter was opening his mouth wide for the camera and proudly showing a row of shiny braces was so adorable he had to look away as not to request right then and there if he could keep it. But there was another one that caught Wade’s attention, in particular. It was hanging in the hallway to the front door, close to the staircase. It was one of a happy family of three fairly ordinary looking people, a couple and their little boy, hanging out at the park. From the photograph Peter had already shown him, the one from his father’s briefcase, and from the researches Wade had done, he recognized the man in the picture as Richard Parker. The woman smiling from ear to ear beside him had the exact same big brown eyes Wade loved so much to look at on the older version of the son she was hugging in the picture. How could those people abandon their son like that?

Wade was interrupted in his contemplation by the pleasant-sounding voice of May addressing him from the other side of the table. “So, what do you do, Wade?”

“What do I do?” he replied back to the woman, his brain momentarily empty of an answer that didn’t suggest anything about him shaking and killing the hell out of some people.

The fact that he hadn’t thought he would be asked that question now seemed incredibly stupid now in retrospect. At least Wade wasn’t alone in this as Peter himself didn’t appear to have the slightest clue of what to say in his behalf, either.

“Well, um, he… uh…” Peter could be heard babbling to his aunt and uncle, his hands vaguely gesticulating above his steaming plate.

Wade took a nervous huge sip of his glass, almost choking himself on the horrid taste, while his eyes searched the room for any ideas as he felt the three other pairs of eyes in the room sealed on him. He took another glance at the painting in his peripheral vision and said, without much of a clear idea in mind besides keeping the word ‘mercenary’ or the title ‘Merc with a mouth’, ironically, out of his mouth, “I’m ah- a National Geographic photographer- no, used to! Uh… I mean… I take pictures of animals and shi- stuff.”

Wade could swear Peter’s fish-like expression would give his already ridiculous enough lie away, but he was very much taken aback himself when May simply told him without any hints of doubts for his unconvincing answer, “oh, must be nice! Peter wants to become a photographer too!”

“Among other things,” Peter mumbled on his fork while looking down at his food.

When Wade looked over to him, his face had taken the slightest hint of pink. The older man couldn’t help but reach over the wooden table for Peter’s wrist that he grabbed before saying with a large smile, “and he should! I would never let my mug being taken by anyone else!”

Wade smiled at him while Peter’s cheeks turned incredibly redder. But when he turned to him, Peter said through gritted teeth as though he was trying not to burst out laughing in the process, “that’s such a compliment coming from an _incredible_ artist like you.”

“Oh, please. You’ll reach my level eventually.” Wade patted Peter’s wrist with sympathy as the two locked eyes knowingly, deeply amused.

Ben let out a good-heartily laugh as Wade took a huge bite out of his plate to prevent himself from doing the same.

“How did you guys meet?” Ben asked the two of them before taking a sip of wine from his glass. “I mean, no offense Wade, but you just kind of just popped out of nowhere for us.”

“I got fired because of him,” Peter revealed, deadpan, pointing his fork at Wade, who received some tiny drops of tomato sauce on his t-shirt in the process.

“The pizza was good, though,” Wade pointed out, shrugging while Peter’s eyes rolled at him.

Fortunately for them, instead of asking for further explanations on their more than vague story, May proceeded to share one of her own where she went into great details about the time _she_ got fired from her first job during her teenage years. After that, in retrospect, it seemed to Wade that Peter’s wasn’t that crazy after all since it didn’t involve anything close to four fire trucks and police forces, thankfully for Wade. Judging by the way Peter had been looking intently at his aunt and hanging on to her every word, Wade guessed he wasn’t the only one who had never heard that story before.

It had started raining outside between the moment Wade had finished his plate and Ben had poured himself and his wife another full glass of wine. Wade was stealing some of the many meatballs left on Peter’s plate as he listened to May and Ben’s retailing of every travel stories they deigned interesting enough to tell as the fast downpour hit the windows and the roof of the house. He was glad he didn’t feel as much of a black sheep eating dinner with the Parkers in the middle of their small comfortable home like he had expected he would, and was amazed to find out that he was actually feeling quite laidback and relaxed at this point. In reality, he wouldn’t be surprised at all if he was to give a visit to the nice married couple in the future without Peter being there. Although, there was still a part of the Merc that felt like he was just an imposter in their home. Not that he wanted or had the need to tell Peter’s aunt and uncle the truth about him, either, but they were treating him like he was some good decent dude who had never done one bad thing in his life and that just didn’t sit right by him.

Somewhat of a guilty look had materialized on Peter’s face once his aunt May mentioned why she and her husband had stopped their traveling spree so many years ago.

“We probably didn’t see much compared to you, though,” she voiced to Wade. “But then we had a little Peter to take care of.”  

“He does need a lot of care,” he half-joked, turning to the guy in question with a grin. Peter returned his smile, the both of them remembering how Wade had to take care of him after the incident at Oscorp.

Though, Peter appeared more embarrassed than guilty when he was left listening to his aunt and uncle’s recounts of some of his most embarrassing childhood moments to a hysterical Wade.

“Okay, yeah, that’s enough of that!” Peter said after May went a bit too long into a cheerful tangent on how he used to go around the neighborhood in just his underwear, standing up only to pick up his and Wade’s empty plates from the table and walk out to the kitchen.

“Wait, Pete!” Wade called out after him, faintly out of breath and a hand on his belly. He stood up as well, picking up May and Ben’s own dirty dishes quickly before joining the young man to the kitchen sink where he had started rinsing the dirty dishes there. “Lemme do that.”

“Really? You’re gonna do the dishes?”

From the clock on the wall in the corner of the kitchen, it was twenty past nine already. The window over the sink was wide opened as droplets were pouring through it and into the sink. Peter closed it in one fast move that very nearly ripped away the nails attaching it to the wall with a loud bang, startling everyone in the house, Peter included.

“Careful out there!” they both heard Ben calling out from the dining room where both he and May were speaking softly, still sipping on their wine.

“Still not used to that,” Peter muttered to Wade with a bit of frustration. “Really hope those meetings with Connors will help.”

“Maybe. But either way, you should try not to divulge _anything unnecessary_ ,” Wade advised quietly, pushing Peter a little to the side to be the one in front of the sink.

Peter had sat done on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs so his shoes hit the cabinet door lightly, with a white and red checkered towel in his hand to dry the cleaned dishes Wade was sending his way. Wade couldn’t muster clearly anything the elderly couple was saying in the other room. He bet Peter could, but if he did his facial expression didn’t show it. Wade was extremely curious as to what they could be saying about him.

“Haven’t done that in a while,” Wade told the other man after the third plate, elbows deep in scorching hot water. “Never done any of _this_ , actually.” He pulled his hand out of the soapy water to wave at the room around them. It sent flying a small amount of soap foam and hot water on Peter’s right leg.

Peter was rubbing the foam off his jeans when he replied, “you could’ve fooled me.”

There was little smile tugging at his lips when he lifted his head to meet Wade’s eyes. The older man could tell he was also reacting to something else.

“What are they saying?” the Merc asked, not doing much of a good job to keep the curiosity out of his voice.

“They think you’re very handsome. And funny. All very accurate stuff.”

Wade was taken by surprise as his hands dropped the forks he had just taken out of the water until it hit the bottom of the sink.

“So, they don’t think I’m a piece of shit?” he then asked, incredulous, his face twisted in this unattractive frown.

“Why would they think that?” Wade didn’t have the time to let out whatever obvious answer that he wanted to give before he was stopped by Peter smacking him on his shoulder blade with the moist towel as he assured playfully, “you were less of an asshole than usual.”

Wade scoffed in response, getting back to his task for maybe two short minutes until he got too bored of patiently doing nothing about Peter’s foot light-heartedly jabbing him in the ribs. He looked behind his shoulder for any signs of May or Ben walking inside the room, and removed his arm from the water-filled sink, this time heavily splashing both of Peter’s legs. He feigned innocence as the 18 years old started groaning and tugging at the jeans that were now stuck to his skin and had turned into a dark blue. Wade moved between his soaked legs to replaced Peter’s hands there with his and leaned his head closer to him until he could feel the young man’s hair brushing against his forehead.

“Oops, you better get rid of those,” Wade murmured to him, a hand cupping one side of his mouth as though he was telling him some scandalous secret while his moving lips brushed against Peter’s right cheek. “Does my wet hands turn you on?”

Peter’s eyes shifted over Wade’s shoulder as if to also check if they were alone, his warm breath now hitting Wade’s cheek. He felt it getting a little faster the second Wade started running his dripping palms up and down his already heavily drenched tights.

“You really want to get into my pants, huh?” Peter said under his breath, though, not pulling away nor moving any muscles either. The towel he used to dry the dishes slipped to the floor beside them with a plop sound. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

Wade’s left hand reached over to sink to pick up some foam there to pull back the front of Peter’s unruly hair with it. The teenager winced at the two small hot drops of water running down his forehead.

“I didn’t have to do much last time…”

“You got lucky.”

He could feel Peter’s lanky legs shuddering lightly under his finger and closing tighter around his sides. Wade’s head leaned away from Peter’s to tell him, still inches away from his face, “don’t flatter yourself, boyfriend. All this time I’ve actually been planning on stealing your aunt from your uncle and make her my little princess.”

Peter shivered dramatically in disgust as Wade chuckled, and pushed him away with a hand on his chest as he voiced with an indignant tone, “don’t talk about May like that!”

Wade went back to the sink just as the younger man slid off the counter, drops falling to the floor.

“Anyway, I knew some splish splash did it for you. But aren’t spiders scared of water?” He raised his hands up to his chest in feign indulgence. “But you do you, man. No judgment in this house.”

Peter only scoffed at him, but then teased, his shoulder grazing the other man’s, “so, you think you’re a Parker, now?”

“The best one and you know it. I dethroned you _hard_.” Wade used his palm to hit the water just as a content looking May, two empty wine glasses in her hand, stepped into the kitchen behind them. Water landed on the counter where Peter previously sat.

The young man picked back up the towel from the ground and muttered, “you wish.”

“Wade, sweetie, please watch what you are doing!” May kindly warned him, squeezing his shoulder one time before adding the two glasses to the hot water in front of him.

“Yes, _darling dear_ , please do,” Peter approved, his tone imbued with sarcasm. He was staring at his profile oddly, though, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“You got it, Mrs. Gump!”

Wade could hear May’s feet halting behind him. She was eying Peter suspiciously when he twisted his neck to see what was going on. Peter’s back was leaning against the kitchen cabinet while his head was turned to Wade, his eyes still locked on him as he seemed to be ignoring his aunt’s presence in the room with them.

“Uh, Peter?”

“Mm?”

“Peter, dear, you got soap in your hair,” May pointed out as Peter passed his fingers through his wet hair. She shook her head incredulously when she glanced down and noticed his drenched pants. She sighed. “Children…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First fic ever and I'm writing a fucking novel lol  
> 54k+ words and we’re not even halfway there yet wooooooo


	15. A knack for getting into trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys bump into some shenanigans aka they don't go looking for trouble, trouble usually finds them.

“Fuck this!” Wade declared at the top of his voice over the vociferous pouring rain, throwing the umbrella, that May had pushed into his hand before she had very reluctantly let them out the door, onto the slippery sidewalk.

They were the only dumb enough people to be walking down the street at that time. Wade had his jacket over his head, covering most of his vision while Peter had done the same with his hood. It wasn’t doing much to prevent them from getting soaking wet from head to toe as though they were both standing under the shower, nor had the long-gone broken umbrella left in a puddle behind them, hence Wade’s frustrating action. The chilly wind made it so that they were being showered with cold water right to their faces. Only the smaller man’s shoulder joined to his own as they walked side by side to the nearest subway station prevented Wade from falling on his ass on multiple occasion. He couldn’t say the same for Peter, though, as he appeared to be slowing his pace down for the other man. That being said, now would have been a really good time for Peter to pull out another of his crazy tricks. Wade was thinking of something like flying through the air between the raindrops or maybe shooting some webs out of his mouth so he could build them a cover, like some of that freaky shit he had seen those nasty spiders do on TV.

See, the thing was that Wade would have gladly accepted May’s offer to stay at their house for the night, given that it had gotten pretty late and, sure enough, the poor temperature outside didn’t appear to be slowing down anytime soon. Except, the look Peter gave him behind his aunt’s shoulder when Wade received that proposition was nothing he had never seen before. It had been enough to shut him the hell up, though, and perhaps would have been enough for him to jump out the window right then and there with the teenager tossed over his shoulder. As a matter of fact, it was the kind of look he had only ever received in his life right before he was about to get laid. And just like that, he knew Peter’s plan wasn’t to peacefully stay at his aunt and uncle’s house for the night. Unless Wade had completely misinterpreted it, which wasn’t _at all_ out of the equation.

Actually, Peter had expressed his desire to share with him some more of that scientific shit he seemed so preoccupied about like he always did. As though Wade could actually help with that. _Right…_ But considering what had happened to him, Wade had to admit he couldn’t really put it against the guy, and he was _pretty_ cute when babbling on about that nerdy stuff. He himself would probably want to dig more into the more ‘technical stuff’ if he was to have ever get bitten by some weirdo spider in a sketchy lab. Well, that was assuming Wade wouldn’t have been too busy fucking around with his powers, especially if he was Peter’s age. He was actually surprised he had received no frantic phone call or voicemail from the 18 years old since the bite. He had kind of been expecting Peter to go batshit crazy with his new-found abilities, that wasn’t just breaking everyday stuff by complete accident. The mercenary had actually been shocked when Peter had told him he hadn’t started up anything at school or didn’t even test out his powers more than he already did. Perhaps beating the shit out of those fairly harmless guys in the subway all those days ago had left him with a bad taste.

The kid was way too good for his own sake. It was a wonder he was even hanging with a guy like Wade in the first place. Some sort of miracle, really.

They, not nearly soon enough, reached the cover of a subway station, a wall of huge droplets spilling from its roof hammering on their head for half a second. They halted in front of its rotating doors where nobody was coming from nor coming in of. Peter’s hood had been pushed back a little by the gust. Wade looked down at him, noticing the way he was blinking rapidly to force the tiny amount of water that had gathered on his long eyelashes to fall off. His whole face had taken a pink color from the cold, his nose an angry red. Wade licked his lips as he pushed off the soaking wet jacket from his head, the taste of salty water hitting his tongue as he looked down at Peter’s blueish ones and the small droplets stuck on them. Wade could see both of their breath coming out of their mouths in front of them, his coming out at a much faster rate than the other man.

The teenager ended up pulling his hood down all the way, revealing a raging case of spiky hair accentuated by the bright lightbulb right above their heads on which a cluster of tiny flies could be seen and heard bumping twitchily against.

“You should see yourself!” Wade snickered, pointing a finger to Peter’s hairstyle that was straight out of a 2009 punk rock band’s album cover.

Peter looked confused for a second before he lifted a hand to his hair. He grumbled under his breath as he made a pitiful attempt at flattening it before his fingers were gently shoved away by the other man’s.

“How does one human have this much hair? This much power?” the Merc asked to himself, initially pushing Peter’s hair back like he had done earlier with the much warmer and soapier water from the Parkers’ kitchen sink. He loved the way Peter would unconsciously lean into his touch when he did that. He also did quite enjoy how Peter’s breath was only just now coming out at a quicker rate, even though they weren’t moving anymore.

Once he was done worsening the silly state of Peter’s hair even further, he asked, “now, would you enlighten me on why in the hell did we decide to go to my place?”

Even though it was difficult to tell for sure, Wade was pretty certain the younger man’s cheeks turned a bit more crimson than they already were. But Peter shook his arms to their side, the sleeves of his hoodie dripping water onto the ground at his feet, replying, “I don’t know, man. Do you think we should go back?”

“Nah…” Wade said, pausing purposefully to squeeze the water out from the bottom of his jacket and tear way his sodden shirt that had glued to his chest. “It’s because you want to tap that, that’s why.”

“Piss off,” Peter retorted back before walking over to the tourniquet.

Wade followed closely behind him, pleased, leaning a bit to speak against the smaller man’s left ear before they were forcedly separated by the rotation doors, “you kiss your aunt with that mouth?”

“I’m pretty sure she thought we were leaving to do drugs,” Peter mentioned to him once the both of them were inside.

“Your uncle did mention something about protections and condoms to me before we left, though.”

It sounded as if Peter had started choking on his own spit. He was giving Wade those panicked exorbitated eyes when he questioned, “did he really?”

Expressionless, Wade replied, “no.”

Peter was too busy releasing a huge sigh of relief, that put some colors back to his cheeks, to tell off the other man, who could be seen chuckling under his breath.

“Please try not to punch anyone while we’re here,” Wade warned with a smirk once they were both standing in front of each other inside of a moving train, miming hitting the pole between them with his fist. “I kinda wanna stay inside as long as possible, if you don’t mind.”

They both had one of their hand hanging on to the same metallic pole, water dripping from their clothes, that were uncomfortably sticking to their skin, and onto the shaky ground. There were only two other people sitting on the same compartment as them, one dozing off at the front while the other was staring down at their phone with a huge headset on their head. Wade could hear every single word of the rap song the person was listening to.

“That’s what she said,” Peter simply replied, straight-faced. His right shoulder was sluggishly pressed against the hard and not so clean metal bar, his hair still exceedingly standing upward.

Wade swayed around the pole a little, keeping his eyes on the other man. “See? You want some of that action with good old me. Practically begging for it.”

“I don’t think we have the same understanding of the word _begging_ ,” he replied, wiping his cold reddish nose with the back of his hand. “All I want right now is a warm bath and some headache pills.”

“That can be arranged. I can even lend you my slippers if you want.” The Merc stopped his twirling right in front of Peter, bowing to him in his best imitation of a knight in front of a princess, and proclaimed, loudly and clearly in the somewhat quiet compartment, “and my bed, of course. My warm, cozy, _inviting_ bed.”

“That’s so righteous of you,” the teenager retorted sardonically, looking up at him with those big brown eyes of his.

“Anything for you, boyfriend.”

It was at that point that Wade became aware of another train quickly passing by theirs to the opposite direction through the window, the slight wind it provoked ruffling some strands of Peter’s damp hair. He could see their reflection on the wide window again once it was gone. While he could faintly discern the tunnel, he was able to very well see his own face very clearly reflected on the darkened surface of the glass. He had crinkles of glee at the corners of his eyes and he did also look slightly younger than he actually was, according to him anyway. Which made some kind of sense considering that he felt like a dumb kid with a crush most of the time these days. Although it was much more surprising to see himself look genuinely happy, especially standing soaked to the bones in an incredibly moist subway in the middle of the night. Peter appeared to have seen his own reflection as well and thus resulting in him noticing his crazy hairdo on the window behind Wade since he suddenly pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head with a quite lengthy annoyed exhalation.

The train jolted vigorously before stopping completely, the door behind the older man opening to their stop. He let go of the unclean pole, but just when he thought Peter would do the same and walk out, Wade was surprised by Peter leaning toward him to place a light peck on his lips. The man barely had the time to respond to it before Peter pulled away at the same time as he patted his chest twice, pushing him out of the way a little.

“That’s you I’m gonna hit if you keep at it,” Peter then told, walking past him out of that subway-train, missing the way Wade’s face lightened up like a Christmas tree.

“Oh, please do, baby. That would be my fucking pleasure.”

Peter’s eyes were shining with light amusement, despite the sleepiness that was starting to get discernable there, when Wade caught up to him, offering him a broad smile. He pulled his right arm around the younger man’s shoulders as they were walking toward the stairs that would lead them outside. Wade took the opportunity to get back at him by sharply pulling the other man closer against him, a hand enclosing his covered head, and lodging a hard kiss on his mouth accentuated, of course, by the smooching noises he made sure to emit. As predicted, he was shoved away by a hand coming to his face and covering half of it. Wade was presented with the grimace on the man’s face while he busted out laughing at it. Peter eventually joined him in his hilarity, but it died down when they reached the stairs and both noted the tempestuous rain splashing on the first few steps at the top.

“You’re ready to get back at it, idiot?” Peter was asking him after they were standing so close to the end of the stairs that they could feel the cold air ruffling their clothes and droplets starting to drizzle their shoes.

Wade positioned himself as though he was about to compete in a running competition, staring intently at the empty street ahead, and simply replied, “of course.”

“No, no, no, Wade, we’re not racing! You’re just gonna end up loosing and on your ass, anyway.”

But it was actually Peter who started running out to the street first and all the chasing he had done in the past couldn’t have prepared the mercenary for the speed at which the young man had taken off. In next to no time, Peter was merely a black spot in the distance that Wade could barely distinguish through the downpour. It was only maybe five minutes after they had first started the race, which Wade by now very much regretted having started it off in the first place, that he saw him taking a right turn. Wade sped up his pace, jumping over a puddle only to end up in an even bigger one imbibing his pants and socks in freezing murky water.

“PETE, WAIT UP!” he called out at full volume without an answer, turning the same corner Peter had went to.

He recognized his neighborhood and let out a sigh of relief when he saw, from afar, the young man’s blurry figure stopped under a street light. The closer Wade approached him the more he noticed how still Peter actually was being. He was looking down at nothing in particular with an uneasy, yet pensive, expression the older man only noticed once he was close enough to touch his shoulder. Wade thought it was only because he had been waiting for his ‘slow ass’ and he was ready to make a comment about it but was shut up even before he could open his mouth by Peter hushing him as soon as he felt Wade’s hand on him.

He could barely hear Peter over the rain when he said, “I’m sensing something.”

The 18 years old’s head had suddenly turned to the right, his eyes scanning the area there without any apparent reason that the other man could detect. Wade perplexedly looked around them in search of what his companion could possibly be on about, but there was nothing of significance in sight aside from the usual apartment buildings, his own only a few blocks away.

“What, cold ass rain?”

There were deep creases on Peter’s forehead of concentration as he shook his head almost indiscernibly, still not looking up at the other man when he vaguely explained further, “no, there’s something wrong.”

Only two seconds had passed before Peter’s entire body seemed to get stiff and go into alert mode, his shoulders and back straightening as he took a step to the side in front of Wade. The latter was left watching over the smaller man’s shoulder as three guys, perfectly fitting the description of the kind of people he would often see frequenting Weasel’s bar, walked out from between the two apartments buildings to their right. They couldn’t have been much older than Peter, nor they could have been much younger than Wade, but it was difficult to tell until they stepped closer to the street light they were standing under. Even before any of them had open their mouth to talk, they already struck the Merc as no good news, and that was without including the whole way Peter had reacted to them even before they announced themselves. It hadn’t really worked in their favor from the start.

“Hey! What are you two doing outside?” one guy in a hoodie asked over to the pair, as him and the two others were approaching slowly toward them.

One had a beanie on his head all the way down to his eyebrows whereas the one who had spoken had his hood over his head like Peter. All of their clothes were in a shade of black, the leather jacket on the third one of them glistening with waterdrops. It was painfully obvious that they were trying to feign nonchalance. Wade could tell just by the way they were walking toward him and Peter that they weren’t there to chat about the weather. They were approaching the duo in the similar way hyenas would with their preys. Except, they appeared like the little cubs hunting for the first time, more than anything else.

“Did you guys just come back from an _Evanescence_ concert or something?” Wade said, eying them up and down for good effect.

“You got a problem, man?” the guy in the leather jacket indignantly interjected. He definitely looked like the one with the worst anger problems out of their small group.

 _Easy peasy_ , the Merc thought, gently pushing Peter aside to be the one standing the closest to the three newcomers. Little did they know that Wade was already getting pretty annoyed and pissed off as hell. Maybe a bit too much for the basic criminals that they were, he supposed, but the fact that he couldn’t even get one single night off for himself without having pity thieves nibbling at his balls was fuelling his ever-growing annoyance. _It’s not asking for much, fuck!_

“Look, I think I know what you guys are looking for. But, counter to what you might believe, we are _not_ hookers, so better luck next time!”

 _Beanie_ kept fiddling with his vest’s pocket like he was playing with something inside of there. The outline of it didn’t look like a gun but instead resemble a penknife or something of the same kind. Something sharp was exceeding out of one of _Jacket_ ’s sleeve, but by the look of it, none of them had firearms. Wade was getting way too familiar with those kinds of amateurs.

 _Hoodie_ made a step forward, followed by his two fellows, as he probed, “maybe you got something for us instead?” Apparently, that exact sentence might have been the cue decided earlier by the gang to ‘reveal’ their ‘impressive’ weapons and start ‘threatening’ their ‘targets’. “Gimme your wallets and we won’t hurt you.”

Wade and Peter let out a loud snort at the same time, both on the verge of letting out proper laughter directly in the guys’ faces. They all had their pocketknife out, but only one of them had it aimed in front of him at Wade and Peter.

_There we fucking go… time to measure our blades._

“Oh! I get it now! You guys want to start a band! Sorry, I’m an ass at instruments, but it’s like I always say…” Wade replied, more to test out how far he could go before things finally turn interesting. He winked at Jacket, whose pursed lips was starting to make him look like a fuming chimpanzee, and continued, “I can try!”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jacket snapped, his knuckles turning white against the handle of his weapon, taking another step forward pointing at Wade. “You mute, shorty? You got money, uh?”

Wade felt Peter moving behind him, however, he didn’t take the time to look back at him as to not break the eye contact he had on the armed men, deciding instead to move forward closer to them, putting some more space between Peter and the trio.

“You touch one single hair on his head and I’ll pull out every single one of yours and feed them like a slushie to your friend here,” Wade warned, keeping the joyous tone he had been using from the start. He saw Beanie moving beside Jacket when he pointed a finger at him, his skinny arm raising the small weapon that had been trembling at his side for the last two minutes in front of him. “I’m gonna dip them in water before, don’t worry!”

“You think you’re tough, big guy? Want me to cut you, uh?”

“All I know that I’ve eaten thicker pieces of shit than you for breakfast. Hell, my shit is more intimidating than you.”

Jacket rushed toward Wade, red-faced and positively pissed now, _and_ apparently about to jump him.

“Look, I know I’m not wearing any bra, but that’s not a reason for getting all handsy with me, okay?”

Just when the mercenary was about to pull out the dagger he always kept under his vest, Jacket was stopped in his track and propelled from behind where he landed on shiny concrete a good meter away from Wade. Without anyone’s notice, Peter had moved behind the criminal and grabbed his shoulders to push him onto the ground so hard that it seemed impossible for the dude to get up from his spot anytime soon. Wade’s fingers had stiffened and seemed frozen on the handle of his blade for the first time in his life as he glanced up at the firm look the teenager gave him before turning around to the two criminal’s companions just about ready to attack him.

Wade glanced down at the guy pathetically moaning in pain. Any other time he would have gladly mock and taunt at the man’s misery, but his attention was completely and utterly taken by what was going on with Peter and the other two guys. And so, he had left the man on the ground, his fingers slipping away from his weapon, to run after them.

Really, Peter had always given the impression to him to be the kind of guy who would take punches to the face if it meant it was keeping the aggressor busy from hitting somebody else. Wade also knew for a fact Peter had never really used violence on anyone before the incident with the men in the subway. Despite that notable fact, the 18 years old was skilfully kicking and throwing around the fully-grown men back in the alley they came from as though they were mere ragdolls, going as far as to use the brick wall to boost himself onto it at some point. From the look of it, they didn’t even have a chance to get one punch back at Peter.

Even though his hood had slid off the teenager’s head during one of his impressive stunts, Wade was unable to see his face as it was now cast in the shadow of the alley. He came closer, seeing Peter dropping a body onto a puddle of dirty water that, for two unpleasant seconds, Wade truly believed was the corpse of one of the robbers. He was relieved to see that Hoodie was actually breathing harshly and clutching at his right leg without any real trace of blood on his body. Beanie, on the other hand, had blood dripping between his fingers that were covering a broken nose but appeared to be breathing just fine.

 _Christ_ , he thought, relieved. _He shouldn’t have to kill._

Wade finally took out his dagger from its confinement inside of his sodden jacket. Peter caught his movement immediately.

“No, don’t!” Peter told him, crossing the few steps separating them to put a firm hand on his wrist, his face no longer obscured in the darkness. “Leave them be.”

“They tried to rob us!”

“Why would they need to die for that? They’re just idiots!”

“We would actually be doing everyone a favor here.”

“No.”

Peter was staring at him dead in the eyes, unwavering and resolute, and Wade instantly knew deep inside himself that he was going to do whatever the boy would ever tell him to. His fingers weren’t leaving Wade’s wrist and only did so when the Merc dropped his arm in defeat and tucking the weapon back.

“Okay, Pretty, but what were you exactly planning to do, now?”

“There’s someone there,” Peter declared, his eyes widening slightly in alarm at the street where they had left one of the injured men. There was indeed someone attending to him, their open umbrella dropped upside down beside them on the slippery ground. Peter grabbed Wade’s forearm again, with much more force this time, and started to drag him further into the dark alley. “They’re calling the police. We have to go.”

“Where?” Wade questioned, puzzled. The back of the alley was completely blocked out. The only exit would be the roof and he knew Peter had come to the same conclusion and, knowing the young man, had most likely already figured out some plan. What that was, Wade already knew it wouldn’t make any sense to him. “There’s no fucking ladder!”

“Hop on my back!” Peter then whispered hurriedly.

“What? I don’t think that’s the time for tha-”

Wade was tossed so quickly on top of Peter’s back his vision got blurry as he grabbed onto whatever limbs that were in his disposition. It didn’t take long for him to realize they were already moving upward, but it took him a little bit longer to grasp into the idea that it was, in fact, the effortless touch of Peter’s hands and feet against the brick wall that was getting them up the building. Peter was climbing relatively quickly, his fingers spread on the surface as the ball of his feet pushed his body up. His head was directed toward the sky and Wade could only sympathize for the water that was definitely getting into his eyes and nose. Wade was hanging on to the teenager’s waist, encircling him with both of his arms while his knee moving up to prop his legs on his hips, which didn’t seem to be slowing Peter’s progression in the least.

“You can do that everywhere?” Wade breathed against his ear, positively marveled at that point.

“I guess so…” Peter’s voice was giving away his uncertainty with the whole situation for the first time that night, despite what his confident actions had been telling his companion until then. Wade squeezed the boy’s upper body tighter.

“Which is your apartment again?” he asked Wade once his hands had successfully taken a hold of the roof’s hedge.

“Two away from this one,” Wade answered him, moving to slide off the other man’s back, but was stopped by one of his hand forcing his leg into place and another gripping his other thigh. “Wha-”

Before he knew it, Peter was running across the roof without any hesitation toward the other end of it until it was too late and he jumped. Wade’s words got strangled into his throat. They weren’t in the air for long, though, and, soon enough, Peter’s feet made a perfect landing on that other rooftop. Only then did he let Wade slid off his back. He looked a bit stunned, as though he hadn’t expected his shot to work.

“The next one, let me do it. I wanna have fun too!” Wade demanded, his voice higher than usual.

“You’ve done this before?”

Wade didn’t answer and set himself into position to gain his momentum, ruminating back in embarrassment at the only time he had attempted at jumping from a building to another. That time had been quite the unsuccessful one given that it had ended up with him falling down into a big dumpster full of quite repellent junk. Could have been way worse, but his ego would still have taken something else over that. He squinted, the downpour, while now less violent than it had been throughout the night, obstructing his vision slightly. It wasn’t that far of a jump, but it was still a pretty high one that Wade didn’t want to risk the possibilities of broken bones.

It appeared that Wade had taken too much time to make his jump and he was left watching Peter hopping in the air over the edge, his arms swinging to the side almost comically. Wade exhaled determinedly and started running after him, and, at last, made his leap too. However, instead of landing feet first like Peter had just done, he hadn’t given enough force into his push and barely had the time to grab onto the hard hedge while his body painfully hit the brick wall.

“I’m good at it… usually,” the older man managed to let out stubbornly and self-consciously, his voice muffled by the effort he was doing to pull himself up. “It’s raining. And I didn’t stretch.”

Peter had the audacity to laugh.

“Hm hm… Let me see that,” Peter replied, pulling him up all the way with hands grabbing at his jacket. He brought him up in front of him and started feeling at Wade’s chest over his soaking wet tee-shirt, educing a grunt of pain out of him. “It’s going to leave bruises. You shouldn’t have tried that! I did it the first time, I could’ve done it again!”

They had made it on top of Wade’s apartment and, while the thought of checking if anyone had seen them hopping around buildings occurred to the Merc, his brain was too occupied by the young man frantically examining his ribs and torso for any noticeable damages. Wade stared down at him. At his reddish cheeks covered in droplets running down his face as though he had been crying. At his brown eyes meeting his own with the kind of warmth that gave him the same sensation down his freezing body a hot chocolate would. At the dark hair completely soaked on his head. At the strands grazing his forehead. At those soft fleshy lips tightened together.

“Peter Parker…” he said between harsh intakes of breath. “You’re someone else.”

Wade couldn’t deny he didn’t have the same fantasy as everyone else to make out under the rain, especially if it was after some extreme event. He could almost hear the first dramatic cords of an orchestra dramatically playing in the distance as he took Peter’s damp cold cheeks in his hands and crushed their mouths together. His lips were cold and tasted of salty water. The faint taste of the tomato sauce they had eaten earlier was still lingering on his breath when he gently pushed himself into his mouth, caressing his tongue eagerly with his. He felt a hand grabbing the back of his head and fingernails scratching his nape, sending a long, delicious shiver down his spine. Peter pulled himself closer, pressing their chests tightly together and thus forcing Wade backward a little as his left foot had to take a step back to prevent them from falling flat on the hard floor of that roof.

Wade moved his hands away from Peter’s damp cheeks to slip them inside of his hoodie, pressing against the naked skin of his back. It was warm under there, incredibly so compared to his freezing hands. Still, he didn’t keep them there for long. Without any hesitation, and without his mouth ever leaving Peter’s, Wade grabbed the back of his thighs and wrapped the young man’s legs around his waist effortlessly with a muffled groan resonating low in his throat. Peter had wasted no time to cross his feet together behind his back, his fingers on the man’s shoulders tugging at the sodden fuzzy material of his jacket. Wade’s own fingers traveled to his boyfriend’s clothed rear, clutching at his jeans that had become all but glued on to his body at that point.

He could feel every single muscle of his body against his, the heat radiating from his skin through his drenched clothes, Peter’s hot breath meeting his as they explored each other’s mouth feverishly. The air around them felt overwhelmingly warm and moist, and the time frozen. Wade wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam emanating off of them and the time on every clock to have stopped or, at the very least, slowed down. The annihilating feeling didn’t stop when Peter pulled away. Wade took it as an opportunity to explore his jaw and neck instead, placing wet kisses there and licking away the salty water covering most of his skin.

But then he heard it too. The police sirens going off in the near distance, the loud voices, the flashing red and blue light coming from below, Peter’s hot breath hitting his neck… Wade met the other’s eyes briefly before they both simultaneously glanced behind Peter where the door of the apartment’s roof was. The younger man slid off Wade’s arms, his feet already moving the second they touched the ground as he pushed him playfully. Wade took off after him, a beaming smile on his face and his heart hammering painfully and remarkably fast against his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TUNE IN IN TWO WEEK FOR... the sex ??


	16. Bop it, twist it, pull it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade and Peter finally do the devil’s tango (and it’s great?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess??? I caught the flue midway through writing this so it might show ;)

“Can you even get a cold anymore?”

Wade was unlocking the door to his apartment, Peter sneezing twice in a row behind him. They couldn’t hear the police sirens anymore, nor they could have been sighted by the very few people on the scene they had left behind them, but it did nothing to refrain the Merc’s eagerness to get inside of his scruffy place as soon as possible. His palms felt exceedingly clammy and the key kept slipping between his fingers.

“Probably,” Peter answered as he followed him inside after some struggle between Wade and the lock. “Guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”

As soon as the door closed behind the young man, Wade pushed him against its wooden surface and carried on what he had started back on the roof. He grabbed his hips, one finger tugging at his belt loop, and flushed their bodies together like they were two pieces of a puzzle. He nibbled at his neck once again, but this time on the other untouched side, with the challenge to lick all the water off his body deeply set in his mind.

“You won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” he whispered against Peter’s cheek before tracing with his tongue his sculpted jawline.

“Sounds like a threat,” Peter breathed out, his hands raising to grab at Wade’s upper arms.

“You mean a _treat_.”

“If you say so…”

Peter was pulling at his sleeves downward trying to force his jacket’s off of him. It felt heavy on his shoulder, as though it had been spread out in the rain on a clothesline all night long, which, you could say, it more or less did. Wade pulled it off with the much-needed help of his companion and let it fall behind him with a hard and wet plop on the floor. Without missing a beat, the younger man’s palms were feeling at his chest covered in that grey tee-shirt of his, the tacos drawing on it darkened by the water heavily soaking the material. He didn’t have to do the same with Peter’s dark hoodie, which the guy had already pulled over his head and threw to the side.

Wade took that opportunity to pick Peter up into his arms once more, this time ramming his back against the door as support. It thudded loudly behind him as Peter grumbled and fervently pressed their mouth together, both hands at each side of the older man’s head firmly keeping him in place. Wade wouldn’t be surprised to know he had no use into keeping him upward on the door, except, he was hanging on the back of Peter’s thighs so closely that it seemed impossible for him to allow himself let go of the man to test his theory out. Anyhow, he detached his back to the door and began walking backward, almost forgetting to step over the two pieces of clothing dropped down on the ground behind him. He stepped into his kitchen, Peter still in his arms and attached to him like an octopus.

“You will be happy to find out that I’m exceedingly good at this,” Wade said, pulling away from the man’s lips, as he set him down hard on the counter.

“Oh, really?” he replied without missing a beat, his lips grazing Wade’s mouth while his hot breath blend with his.

His legs were opened and had taken an immediate location at the back of his, securing Wade’s body between them until it was impossible for the mercenary to move away. The front of his legs was tightly pressed against two kitchen cabinet, one tiny rounded doorknob unpleasantly digging into one of his upper thighs. He was pleased to see Peter’s pupils blowing out and obscuring the grand majority of the warm brown of his eyes, even if it was only for a few seconds before he pulled him to him. A mug with a little bit of old coffee in the bottom of it was located way too close to Peter’s left knee and, sure enough, got bumped to the side on the counter. Just as it was about to roll off and break on the floor at Wade’s feet, Peter’s hand reached out for it just in time and put it far away to the side, all while not having glanced at it one single time nor separating from Wade.

“Yeah. See, I have this thing… after we’re done you won’t be able to do this with anyone else,” he explained, as he slipped one hand inside Peter’s soaked tee-shirt and felt his belly quivered a bit under the light touch of his fingers.

“Overconfident much. Sorry, Champ, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“You little…” Wade trailed off and watched as Peter busted out laughing in his face.

His head was leaning forward until his chin was practically touching his chest, his eyes closed. The adrenaline was probably starting to come down. Wade felt something painful in his chest as if someone had started vigorously squeezing his heart from the inside with their fist. His only response was to cover the young man’s smile, his laugh burying inside of Wade’s mouth that soon faded out into low sighs. He was smiling still, though, as Wade kept leaving long pecks on his lips that kept tugging upward.

“Get that shit off,” Wade said after some wordless seconds, _or minutes_ , later, lifting Peter’s shirt until it was no longer covering his abdomen.

Taking it off all the way was quite the difficult task, however, as the 18 years old was soon left with both of his arms into the air above his head. He was chuckling anew like an idiot as the soaking clothes kept hanging on to his skin and Wade struggled to free his face and arms. In one good swing, that forced Peter’s whole body to lean forward and slide a little bit on the kitchen counter, the light-colored shirt was impatiently tossed to the side, turned completely upside-out. The coffee mug, who had been saved just earlier had been knocked down in the process and smashed into the floor beside the piece of clothing.

Yet, Wade had already started taking full advantage of Peter’s naked torso in front of him to give it greater notice than an uncaring mumble against his naked skin. Peter was still laughing quietly when he brought his hands to his ribs, just below his armpits, and traced kisses on his right collarbone. It was slightly humid like his neck had been, but he could discern the strong taste of sweat on his lips mixed with the already salty one the rainwater had giving it. His pale chest was starting to get flushed, a red path slowly leading up to his neckline and nearly down to his navel the lowest Wade’s avid progression was getting. It was only halted by a strong tug at the back of Wade’s top. Peter’s hands, who had previously been playing with the bottom of the older man’s short sleeves, were now forcing it over his head like it was done to himself earlier. Wade went along with it and lifted his arms in the air, leaving Peter to take it off in a much more efficient method than his had been.

“It’s just not fair, you know?” Peter cheerfully said once the Merc had his torso exposed as well. His head was slightly tilted to the side while his eyes kept shifting down to Wade’s lips, his owns as red as ever, the outline of it looking thoughtfully used. The mop of hair on his head hadn’t completely dried yet and was sticking up from the moment his top had been rashly ripped off him.

“Of course, of course,” Wade replied in the same playful tone.

Wade only just then noticed just how little left of Peter’s ass still was on the counter and, by the same token, realized just how ludicrous was the fact that he was still half-clothed. He was still wearing those tight-fitted jeans and his shoes, and Wade couldn’t help but glance down at them as though they were insulting him. Peter had followed his stare and immediately took his sneakers off using only his feet and the kitchen cabinet behind them in a practiced manner. They fell onto the floor, one hitting Wade’s foot, his jeans already unzipped all the way by Wade.

“Motherfucking shit, fuck!” the Merc exclaimed grouchily after some numerous long and tedious attempts at pulling the damp pants down his gangling legs. While the border of his underwear was exposed, it had hardly gone down below his hips, let alone to his pelvis, and Wade was letting out some impatient outtakes of breath the more minutes Peter was still left with those soaking jeans on.

“Would you be upset if I use my knife for this?”

“Wait…”

Wade watched as the young man lifted himself off the countertop and practically ripped the dark piece of clothing off him. There was a loud tearing sound before there was a remaining of fabric on the kitchen floor and Peter’s naked legs were dangling at Wade’s sides. They both stayed still and silent for some seconds before Wade could open his mouth again without it leaving out noises sounding vaguely like words.

“Ah,” Wade shakily let out, his voice also a lot squeakier than he would have wanted it to be, nodding in short and rapid succession. “Well, okay, then.”

His callous hands slide up the bare thighs that wrapped themselves oh so naturally around him, the short hair underneath his palms sticking up as goosebumps appeared there almost instantly. Peter’s lips were slightly parted and he was looking at him as though he was waiting for him to do something. He reached up to his inner thighs until he could play with the hems of his boxer briefs. Wade’s thumb not so accidentally grazed the visible bulge between Peter’s legs, causing one of his feet to jerk up a little and his knee to bump the Merc’s side.

Wade’s pants felt tight, almost unbearably so. One hand went down to loosen them up a bit, but it did nothing to appease the agonizing taunt at his crotch area. Peter’s eyes followed his movement, as they always were.

“You’re not gonna take those off, too?”

He took off his shoes without looking, but then took on an overly naughty tone like the ones he had heard those heavily mustached men using in those overly bad 70s pornos, to offer, “would you like the honor?”

Before he had even finished his sentence, Peter was already down the counter and kneeling on the ground in front of the other man, easily removing the dark blue pants from his legs.

“You’ll have to show me your technique.”

“Another time…”

Peter had come back up on his feet, almost stepping on the taller man’s toes, and had crossed his arms around his shoulders, behind his head. Despite the speed with which the young man had come to him, the kiss was slow and, in a sense, incredibly tender. Wade’s hands had reached across his back in a sort of embrace. He could feel Peter’s naked skin against his, the sultry warmth lighting up every single one of his senses until he couldn’t take it anymore and pick the boy up in his arms one last time.

The walk to the bed wasn’t that bad, while somewhat hazardous given the entirety of Wade’s wardrobe was lying around the place. Which, also meant that his bed was too. He now deeply regretted having taken so much space to find what to wear for the dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Parker, especially so now that it was impossible for him to lay their nephew on a nice surface without doing so on a pile of dirty pants. Wade had no idea how he managed to wipe away the pieces of clothing on his double bed while still carrying all of Peter’s weight, but he did. The latter was, again, chuckling at him when he finally dropped him in the middle of the furniture, sending him bouncing on the mattress, the covers at his feet et the most of the clothes on the floor beside it.

One pair of shorts had landed on top of his bedside lamp and it was quite dark inside the room, Wade now only realized. The window, ever so slightly ajar, far away to the left of the room was letting some raindrops inside. The temperature seemed calmer now, for how ferocious it had been, anyway. As he was about to let himself down onto the bed as well, but his progression was exceedingly sped up by Peter pulling him by the shoulders and eagerly welcomed him on top of him. But Wade could barely see him and one of his knees ended up hitting hard one unidentified limb, all of his weight falling onto the young man’s body.

“Oomph!” The mercenary then whispered under breath in bewilderment to himself as he brought himself up by his forearms, “how are you this fucking strong?”

He could hear the clear guilt-ridden undertone in his partner’s voice when he retorted, “it’s the spider thing!”

Bringing his head closer to Peter’s neck, he whispered against it before blowing a loud and obnoxious raspberry there, “I’m not complaining!”

Even though Wade had gotten too busy blowing some more raspberries on his neck and cheek, he could just feel Peter’s eyes rolling at him, as well as one of his hands rising to push his face away. He grabbed it just in time before it could do so and Peter let him pin it on the mattress right beside his head as he resumed his task from earlier, even though there wasn’t much rainwater to lick off it anymore. It stayed there even when he let it go to turn his attention to the guy’s stomach, straddling his thighs as his mouth took its damn time traveling down, his back heavily leaning forward. Peter’s hand was in a tight fist by the time Wade’s mouth had reached his navel and his fingers toyed with the elastic band of his underwear. He was remaining silent, but his legs and toes were twitching with what Wade could only assume was anticipation. The bulge of Peter’s crotch was pocking older man’s chin through the fabric, causing his knee to jolt under Wade, but he ultimately slid the boxer down just enough to free his ass and his erection.

“Oh, hey! Nice to see you again!” Wade said, giddy. He could have sworn Peter would have jumped out of the bed and left out the door if it wasn’t from his heavy body keeping him in place. Or perhaps he could and simply wasn’t stupid enough to reject a hand on his dick. In any case, Wade gladly took it.

Peter sucked in air through his gritted teeth. He appeared to stop breathing altogether when Wade’s wrist started moving a little. The Merc stopped his movements soon after starting off, though, and leaned over Peter’s body to retrieve the bottle of lube that he kept inside his bedside drawer, hoping there was still enough left from his lonesome activities from the previous night. He coated his digits with it like a madman under the young man’s somewhat amused eyes, which ended up closing shut as soon as Wade’s slick fingers made contact with his tender member again, this time sliding so easily on it his entire body to tense up at once with the sudden sensation. His ass had clenched against the palm Wade had placed there, and was attempting to raise up the bed in an effort to follow his up-and-down motion. He twisted his hand at the base deliberately slow, eliciting a hiss from Peter.

Without any warning, Peter sat up and very nearly caused Wade to lose his balance and fall backward awkwardly on Peter’s outstretched legs under him. He was forced to release his grip on his dick now very much pressed against his own still very much enclosed inside of his underwear.

“You take it off too. That’s the rule,” Peter said, a little out of breath, but still managing to sound like he was reminding him about one very simple instruction to a board game.

“Oh, so there’s rules now? I’m warning you, Petey, I’m not signing any contracts,” Wade teased, only receiving one good slap via the waistband of his own boxer briefs. “Fine!”

He wiped away some of the lube left on his right hand on Peter’s sweaty chest before getting up on the bed. Wade stood above him, feet spread over Peter’s lower body as he gawped up at him, a vague mix of confusion and amusement on his face.

“Say hello…” Wade slid his underwear down his legs in one swift motion and carried on brashly, “to my little friend!”

Peter had closed his eyes and was letting out a long aggravated sigh when Wade fell back on the bed. When he opened them again, Wade had cradled back between his legs and was met with his pleased little smile barely two inches away from his face. The young man’s knees had both raised up, his feet flat against the mattress that basically trapped Wade’s bare body on top of his own.

“You said it, not me,” Peter said, deadpan.

There was a good moment of silence before neither of them made any sounds or movements. That was until one of them burst out laughing, Wade didn’t know which one it was. His forehead dropped to Peter’s collarbone, his teeth grazing the defined bone there. Peter had raised a hand to his forehead and when their hilarity eventually died down, his right one reached down between their two bodies to take a good hold of Wade’s, until then, neglected erection. He rubbed his palm over it agonizingly slowly, almost leisurely so, as though he was getting acquainted with some new unknown creature, and Wade’s laugh got stuck in his throat.

“I’m surprised I’ve never seen it before,” he told him, speeding up his pace just enough for Wade’s nails to clutch at the thin white sheet covering his mattress.

“What, you thought I was a porn star in a spare time?” Wade replied, stifling a groan.

“I just thought you would be the kind of guy to send dick pics and say it was a slip-up, that’s all.”

“I’m not a slut!” Wade countered with, only half offended.

“Obviously.”

Peter’s touch on him became tighter and the cocky expression on his face only riled Wade up to the point of him actually lifting himself off and manhandling the other man until he was lying on his front. His face ended up squished on the pillow previously behind his head while his shriek of protest got muffled into it.

“I’ll show you a… slut?” Wade said, his own eyebrows frowning at his words. Peter was looking at him over his shoulder, his baffled expression exactly how Wade had expected it to be.

Instead of adding something to his questionable comment, Wade simply grabbed the bottle of lube that had ended up in a precarious position at the far corner of the bed beside the pillow. He coated his digits with it again, his breath getting shakier the longer he stared at Peter’s naked backside. He didn’t resist the urge to bite into it for long, his teeth digging lightly into his right butt cheek. Peter had rested the left side of his face on his crossed arms while one of his legs dangled in the air, his foot pocking the older man on the shoulder from time to time. Wade was leaving a stream of wet kisses on the same cheek, now on his knees between Peter’s, stopping to suck sharply on the smooth skin there. He beamed at the bright red mark he left behind as his sticky fingers tentatively touched around the young man’s rim.

His mouth grazed the delicate area as well before he pulled away to ask, “is that okay?”

“Go for it…” Peter answered him in a low whisper.

At that, one of Wade’s finger applied some pressure. It was barely enough to give neither of them an idea of what would come, but Wade knew the atmosphere had just drastically changed. His non-lubricated hand was caressing his left buttock as it spread the two of them a little bit. Peter’s leg had gone down still on the mattress as the Merc pushed a little more against his hole, his lips tightly pressed together in a fine line. He paused briefly to smear both of his hands of the lube until it started dripping down one wrist. All while teasing the sensitive flesh until it was not so tensed anymore that he could actually push one finger in, he left his other hand travel. To the dip in the other man’s lower back, to the slight curve of his waist, to his firm tummy. His palm laid flat against the latter as he elevated Peter’s body enough for him to finally reached his forsaken groin area.

He couldn’t hear a sound in the room apart from the quick puffs of air coming out of Peter’s nose as Wade gave his dick three or four strokes just before he dug enough for the tip of his index to be engulfed into the man’s warmth. He didn’t try to thrust or even move it, on the contrary, he kept it still and focused his attention on his other hand as both of Peter’s fists closed tightly on the thin pillowcase under his head. His eyes were still wide opened and focused on Wade. They caught gaze for two short seconds before the older man dug back his teeth into the meaty flesh now covered in the same slick substance as his fingers. He tasted it on his tongue whereas his lone digit stroke, almost shyly, down the tight rim. The back of his neck was starting to hurt by the time he could begin to insert his middle finger beside the first one. Peter was writhing against the mattress, letting out from time to time quiet sighs and soft groans that only encouraged Wade further and sent sudden waves of heat down his crotch. They nothing less but intensified once he wiggled his two fingers around a little while playing with Peter’s tip, resulting in a much longer and louder groan from him.

By the third finger, Wade had laid down on his front, his calves and feet left in the gap between the bed and the floor, though his crotch had very quickly started rubbing itself instinctively against the sheet underneath him. And yet, it did nothing to appease the burning feeling in his groin and only managed to drive him even crazier with the unruly itch that had propagated throughout his entire body. Every single one of his muscle felt on edge, down to his toes. His three digits were easily moving inside Peter but this point, whose skin had gotten so heated it was exhilarating to the point of turning Wade lightheaded. Buried down to his knuckles, he moved his hand faster and sucked another mark on lower part of his butt cheek, just where it connected to his thigh. Peter had started trembling almost imperceptibly as Wade’s hand was starting to cramp. A coat of sweat had appeared on Peter’s back. Wade took a lick of it before the young man started moving and pulled out his fingers. Peter was twisting himself around on the bed trying to shift his position.

Once he successfully ended up on his back, Wade located between his opened legs again, he questioned him, his eyebrows frowned a little bit, “do you have, like, condoms or something?”

The pillow under his head had now a long tear in it, a piece of the pillowcase dangling beside it barely attached to it anymore.

“I do, I have condoms or something!” Wade teased back, even though his voice sounded extremely hoarse to his own ears.

Wade’s hands were shaking when he reached out to his bedside drawer again. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this nervous in bed. Maybe it was during his dreadful first time, but even then, he didn’t recall being so shaky he couldn’t think straight or so clumsy he couldn’t put on a condom without having to retry twice. Peter was leaning on his elbows and looking down at Wade, who had gotten on his knees between his slightly bent legs, and at his trembling hands on his shaft.

“You know, I have nothing to compare this to so, this could be terrible and I wouldn’t know,” Peter told him quietly, his tone hushed like he was sharing a secret with him.

“Lucky me!” Wade replied, a tense laugh escaping out of him.

Was that supposed to reassure him, or something? Either way, it didn’t really work and he was left rolling, this time successfully, the condom down his erection while avoiding Peter’s questioning gaze. Peter sat up all the way when he reached out for the lube bottle, picking it from his grasp, Wade’s wrapped dick pressed against the young man’s belly. He took it in his hand and coated it with the sticky liquid. A long sigh escaped out of him. It was cold but very quickly turned into this amazingly pleasant heat as Peter’s fingers moved back and forth slowly. Wade brushed them away before his strokes could get any faster and pushed him backward on the bed until he was lying on his back again before kissing him deeply. His tongue fervently brushed against his as Wade grabbed onto the back of Peter’s knees and brought his legs up.

“Woah!” Wade breathed out, in awe, breaking off the kiss. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

Peter seemed as surprised as him when his feet reached all the way to the wall behind the bed without so much of a struggle as though they were made of some kind of modeling clay.

“No? But last time I checked I wasn’t able to do that.”

Wade moved his hands to the back of the boy’s calves and spread his legs out until Peter was basically doing a split in the air above him.

“So bendable…”

“Stop that!” Peter retorted, laughing.

Wade kissed him again while lowering his legs, bending them until his own arms were holding them and encircling his thighs, and his ass was lifted and barely touching the mattress anymore. He could feel Peter’s erection rubbing against his own and standing straight against his lower stomach. His fingernails were scratching the back of Wade’s neck and head where his short hair started. Peter pulled away from his mouth with a wet noise as soon as the tip of the older man’s dick made the first contact with his slit.

Wade stopped to add some more lube, nearly emptying the bottle in its entirety. He then brought his mouth to the young man’s neck, licking away at his Adam’s apple in an attempt to distract him from the unfamiliar intrusion. He could feel his shaky breath hitting the side of his face as he sucked at the skin in the junction of his neck and jaw, pushing a little bit further until half of his length was buried inside Peter. One of the young man’s hand impulsively reached out between their two bodies to take a hold of his red member, tugging at it absently.

Wade had been holding his breath for quite a while when his hips finally wound up completely flushed against the other man’s ass. Contrary to the other, whose breath had been coming out so harshly it was a wonder he wasn’t actually hyperventilating.

“You alright?” Wade asked quietly, giving two pecks to Peter’s parted lips.

“Ah…” Peter sighed in lieu of actual words, yet, he still nodded.

“You sure?”

“Yeah…”

He felt tight and so incredibly warm. Wade stirred ever so slightly. It was just enough for Peter to extend his hand to the Merc’s lower back, causing a loud slapping noise to erupt in the quiet room, and clutched the flesh there. He could feel tingles where his palm had hit his skin, but it very quickly got forgotten the moment he decided to pull back a little, not nearly enough to scratch the burning itch lingering beneath his skin. It had its good effect on Peter anyway and soon, he was moving again, this time not stopping until he found a good pace.

Peter’s eyes had closed, his head leaning a bit down. Wade’s had gotten used to the dark at this point and he stared down at the man’s face. Wade noticed the droplets of sweat on his forehead and eyebrows, at his deeply blushed cheeks and at his wild hair surrounding the pillow and brushing his closed eyelids. They lingered on his lips, though, now tightly pressed together and keeping prisoner any noises that could be exiting out of his mouth. He forced it opened gently, maintaining his slow thrusts as he explored the inside of Peter’s mouth. The latter reciprocated much more avidly than he had anticipated, as though he had just woken him up and snapped him out of the bubble he had locked himself into. The older man was running his fingers up and down his thighs as Peter nothing but devoured his mouth. His began hips moving faster, which instantly sent his skin, his muscles, his blood aflame and his mind to flow out the window and get washed away by the stream.

He gave Peter one last deep kiss before he straightened up and got to his knees again, the back of his thighs still in his grip, and renewed his cadence. He yanked his hips forward and pushed himself back inside, Peter’s long surprised moan echoing in his ears like the chant of an angel. Fingernails were digging into his right thighs and leaving burning red scratches in their trail. Peter’s other hand had picked up the same pace on his swollen dick as Wade’s short fast uneven thrusts. Wade slowed down after a little while and leaned over until the back of Peter’s thighs were pressed against his chest and his mouth was back on his. The angle was different, his hips angled so that he was getting much deeper than his previous thrusts. He moved much slower, going with the vein of their sluggish kiss, although Peter broke it off pretty early on.

His head had raised up, almost hitting Wade with his chin in the process.

“Oh, oh, ohh…”

 _Check out Santa Claus over there_ , Wade thought, grinning, and replaced Peter’s fingers on his dick with his own still fairly sticky ones.

He resumed his leisured pace, grunting in Peter’s neck as he hit the deeper he could get with each firm pushes of his hips. Wade could quickly feel himself losing it as his thrusts became increasingly more erratic by the minutes during which the other man’s legs had started shaking ever so slightly.

He abruptly clutched Wade’s hand around his dick, prompting it faster, and breathed out, almost indecipherable, “ke- keep that up, keep that up.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah…”

As much as Wade would have liked to taunt him by reducing his speed, that could have also maybe prolonged the moment, he simply didn’t have enough will left in him at this point. There was also the fact that Peter was already starting to come before Wade had even processed the idea in his head. Peter made a strangled noise before his entire body stiffened underneath him, both his and Wade’s hand, as well as his chest, smeared with his load. Wade rode him through it, only stopping after Peter’s walls ceased their relentless spasms around his dick. He pulled out hurriedly, only having to tug at his painful erection before he released himself as well with a long satisfying moan, his body practically melting with pleasure.

Wade fell back on the mattress beside Peter, their sweaty arms pretty much gluing together, and waited for his heart to stop beating so fast as he listened to his lover’s arduous breathing.


	17. Alive & Amplified

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Peter is a bad sport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is very short and sweet since the last one took everything out of me and university is back and kicking my ass! Although, the juicy Amazing Spider-Man plot is picking up very, very soon if you know what I fucking mean…

“You’re so fucking bad at this.”

“Well, try at it! We’ll see how well you’ll do!”

Wade had brought him to a warehouse, first in the alleged reason of giving him an opportunity to test out his powers beyond what he had already explored, with an audience of course, but Peter had quickly become aware of the man’s wish for him to re-enacting ‘that scene from _Footloose_ ’. Which, the young man _very_ politely refused to do so. He had started instead, ignoring his companion’s cries of deception and later horrible rendition of the song playing during that particular part of the movie, to climb up some sort of wooden plates resembling vaguely a huge ladder. It was obviously not made for that purpose, yet, Peter had soon been walking like an expert equilibrist a few meters above the ground and Wade’s head on another plank of wood. The only difficulty was to get down, though, and having an audience had quickly turned out to be not so great after all.

He had been trying to hang on to some metal rope and ultimately struggled to make somewhat of a good landing, and was left dangling in the air, his hands tightly closed around the cold cable that was much more difficult to manipulate than he had first anticipated.

“I’m not the one with motherfucking superpowers!” Wade had his arms crossed on his chest and was looking up at him and his pitiful swings on the thing. But then Peter very clearly heard him muttering under his breath, “some of us had to work for that bod…”

It was quite cold and cloudy on that particular Sunday morning. While it was not raining anymore like the last two days, it had given them a pretty good pretext, according to them, that was, to stay confined inside Wade’s place all throughout that Saturday. His aunt had accepted that excuse for not coming home altogether that weekend fairly easily anyway, although he could have sworn he had heard his uncle’s laugh coming from the other line behind his aunt’s voice. Still, Peter was back in the warmth of Wade’s arms and bed in record time where they had stayed for a good part of that Saturday. Less the numerous hours spent playing some video games Wade had in his collection as a compromise after some arguments between the two of them about which movies they could watch.

“Why can’t you have normal movie marathons like _Star Wars_ or _Harry Potter_?” Peter had asked the older man after the latter had been bold enough to mention they could watch each of _The Gingerdead Man_ movies that were, obviously, all in his possession.

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” Wade had nonchalantly replied as he had been making them some food. While Peter had borrowed one of his many t-shirts splattered around the room as well as some underwear, Wade had not even bothered to put on some clothes and his backside had been all exposed for Peter to see. Needless to say, Peter’s sandwich had had quite the view as well.

“I’ll pretend I never heard that,” he had muttered, letting himself falling backward on Wade’s couch where you could still very much see the tomato sauce stain from a pizza Peter had made all those days ago.

Now, the both of them had a beanie on, as well as some mittens for Peter also found in Wade’s mess of a wardrobe, as to not being too exposed to the November cold. Although, it wasn’t so cold that they needed two layers of coats to survive or anything like that. As per usual, Wade was wearing his trusty red jacket and one of his lowcut tee-shirt. As for Peter, who had had the brilliant idea to rip off his own pants that faithful Friday night and whose remaining clothes had only just been added to a washing machine that very morning on their way to the bleak empty warehouse, his entire attire consisted solely of Wade’s own clothes. He had had to convince himself that he didn’t look too stupid to come out outside with those baggy jeans and that oversized sports jacket that Wade appeared to have owned since what appeared to be the end of time. If he had brought his skateboard, he could have sworn he looked like one of those teenagers he would see hanging out with their skates at the back of the school during classes with a joint hanging out of their mouth.

“I’m stuck,” Peter ended up admitting, his covered hands clutching to the cold metal as though he was about to fall into deep water filled with sharks while he looked down at other man leaning against an old rusted table. He could feel the dark blue jeans Wade had landed him slowly slipping down his waist despite the belt holding it all. “I never went this far in the climb-the-rope part in gym class.”

He wasn’t really feeling much strained in his arms whatsoever like he vividly remembered had always been one of the main reasons why he had never been able to climb more than one or two meters up without feeling like he was about to faint and fall down on top of the much too thin blue mat. Though, the landing part had never been something he had ever really thought about until now, given that there definitely was no mat of any kind that would welcome him down. It was without mentioning the fact that he had pretty much reached twice the height of his gym class’s ceiling.

“I can see that,” Wade replied, uncrossing his arms from his chest to then walk over not too far away under where the young man’s feet were dangling very far up in the air above him. “Just jump. Doesn’t cats always fall on their feet, anyway?”

“When in the hell did you get the idea that… How… How can you mix up cats and spiders?”

Wade shrugged in response, looking at him as if saying “what do I know?”

Peter looked down, evaluating at which distance his feet currently was from the hard concrete floor, his mind inadvertently going to the excruciating pain he would feel in every single one of his bones if he was to miscalculate everything. It was way less of a fall than if he had actually missed his target and fallen off one of the roofs that Friday night in the rain with the thieves. But he didn’t have to think back then. He had jumped on pure instinct, and probably adrenaline too. Now he just felt very stupid.

As though he had been thinking the same thing as him, Wade then shot out, “just get down! You jumped off roofs, remember?”

“I didn’t jump off to land on my ass!”

“Language, Petey!”

“Shut up!” Peter retorted before loosening his grip on the metal cable altogether in the pure feeling of challenge Wade had gotten into him.

He landed on his feet, nevertheless, his knees bending in reflex to absorb the shock while his hands brushed the ground for a mere second. An outline of a smile appeared on Peter’s face when he noticed Wade’s impressed look directed at him.

“Fuck, man,” the Merc said, raising his hands to applaud him briefly, the sound resonating around them in the vast quiet warehouse long after he had stopped. “See? You’re already nailing the superhero landing.”

“What do you mean?” the younger man asked as he straightened up and pulled his pants up using both of his hands.

“Don't you ever, ever, ever, ever try, if you don't give your heart wings you'll never, never, never ever fly!” Wade had started singing with such impressive and sudden fervor it hurt Peter’s ears a little bit. At least he hadn’t pulled off some of his self-proclaim ‘special dance moves’ that Peter had unluckily been the witness of during the last two days entirely spent stuck in the same small vicinity as the older man. “You’ll need a fight song now that you’re becoming all street fighter and all that,” the man then told him, enthusiastically.

“I’m not becoming a… _street fighter_ , whatever that means,” Peter perplexedly replied, hoping the other man would elaborate further on his comment. But, of course, Wade ignored his silent request in order to voice, absentminded, “mine’s _Gloria_ , you know, by Laura Branigan? Was written for me, I swear.”

Peter went to scratch the back of his neck, forgetting that he had mittens on, as he said, still very much puzzled, “I can see it… I think.”

“You’re gonna tell me you didn’t like beating up those thieves _if you can even call them that_? You put them out of service like a fucking badass.” He proceeded to mimic the move someone would make before smashing a piece of wood into two while saying, “vigilante-style shit.”

Peter, his tone filled with reservation, asked, “you really think that’s something I could do again? Make that into a _thing_?”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t wanna be saved by some disheveled teenager?” Wade put one hand on top of Peter’s head only to move his beanie around from the front to the back, causing statics under it, as he added, “and sexy too…”

Peter pushed him away by the shoulder, breathing out a laugh, before walking toward one particularly spoiled wall that could very well be used, and most likely was, as a skateboarding ramp from how actually curved it was and was probably the reason why there were so many graffiti covering it. He took off his gloves, slipping them into his jacket’s pocket, and press his palms against the smooth light gray surface. He could feel his palms sticking to it as easily as if he had spread them in superglue. One magically invisible and non-gluey superglue, but still.

“You gotta use it to your advantage, though. Didn’t you say your folks need the money?” Peter heard the other man remarking far off behind him as he made, almost lazily, his progression up.

“Yeah, but I don’t see how _this_ can help with that.”

“Are you kidding? You could go fucking ballistic!”

Peter went still, his position awfully too similar to one of a spider having halted on a bedroom wall upon being spotted by the house’s owner. He turned his head slightly to the right, looking down where all he could see was the end curve of the wall he was on instead of the man he really wanted to take a glimpse at.

He wasn’t implying what Peter thought he was implying…

“You mean I should become a mercenary? Beat up people for money? Like you?”

He hoped Wade wouldn’t hear the slight hint of abhorrence in his tone, which he very likely had, judging by how contrite and hurried his voice sounded when he clarified, “what? No! Fuck no! I just mean, like, cheating at sports competitions or some stupid shit like that.”

“I would say I’m more of a science decathlon kind of guy if I’m being honest,” he replied, turning back fully to the wall, his head and eyes directed toward the high dark ceiling still so far away above him.

He regretted coming to that conclusion so quickly now, even if Wade really did mean that when he said it.

“Yeah, of course, you fucking nerd!” Wade shouted out loudly, his voice sounding as if he was feeling relief over the change of subject.

Peter, without turning away from the wall this time, opened his mouth to say, as emotionless as was possible for him despite the laugh creeping in, “oh please, mister the jock, please don’t intimidate me!”

“Is it roleplay if it’s the truth?” Wade wondered out loud on purpose.

Peter’s left hand detached itself from the wall as well as his left foot. He wasn’t located as high as he was dangling from that metal cable earlier, but he still fairly was compared to where Wade was standing.

“Maybe I’ll actually be able to beat you at the Arcade, now.”

“Let’s not find out.”

Peter jumped off, sliding off the ramp from his right side only to end up on his feet at the end of it. Wade was rolling his eyes at him and the young man just knew he was thinking about just how much of a show off he looked like. He couldn’t really argue with that.

“Seriously, though… I don’t think I’ll, you know, start beating up criminals on the street and all.”

“Or just rob a bank, I don’t care!” Wade’s tone had been playful, but it drastically turned a bit too forlorn for Peter’s liking when he said next, “they’re none of your concern, anyway.”

Peter bit his lower briefly before he let out, both in the desire to speak the truth and in the hope to lighten the drastic change of mood of his companion, “still, I did like saving your ass a lot.”

“For your info: there would have been three corpses to pick up after we left if you had let me take control of the situation!”

Peter couldn’t help but wince despite Wade obvious attempt at keeping a light, almost playful tone. The sudden and grisly thought that crept into his mind didn’t do anything to help as well… _As long as yours isn’t in the pile…_

Would he had been ready to kill if it had come to that?

“I know, Wade.”

The next few minutes were spent in silence, only the sound of the 18 years old’s shoes scraping against whatever surface he was hopping and pushing on breaking the semblance of calm. The Merc was staring up at him trying around stuff around the room, humming under his breath and leaning against one dusty wall by a long wooden ledge set up there not too far above his head. Peter walked over it, his steps on the wood echoing brashly around the empty warehouse until he could look down at his boyfriend still at ground level.

“Why won’t you join me up there?”

“It’s my lazy day. No effort on Sundays. None.” Peter was about to open his mouth, but the older man was quicker than him in mentioning the exact thing he was about to, “well, except sex. Obviously.”

“Obviously, obviously,” Peter re-joined with as casually as possible, looking away from Wade as he felt his neck getting absurdly warmer as he thought back to the ridiculous amount of times they had ‘baptized Wade’s apartment’, in the man’s own words, throughout the last few days and that very morning.

Peter sat down on the ledge in the way a dive diver would before dropping himself from a boat and into the water. He leaned backward, the back of his calf supporting his weight while his upper body remained hanging in the air upside down. The statics Wade had created under his hat earlier prevented it from slipping down from his head. He twisted his head a little by extending his neck until he could see Wade again and crossed his arms over his chest. Wade had pulled his back away from the wall and taken a few steps closer to Peter’s floating upper body.

“Hey there,” Peter greeted, grinning at the man.

“Oh, hi Mark!” he saluted him back, going around the young man until he was standing right in front of him.

“You’re stupid,” Peter let out, looking back at Wade’s upside-down face, the grin not leaving his face.

“No, you’re stupid!”

“Shitface!”

“Butthead.”

Just when Peter thought Wade was about to push his shoulders backward, he grabbed them by the jacket and pulled him forward and toward him instead. He closed his eyes. It was kind of weird feeling Wade’s upper lip brushing against his bottom one. It was undeniably nicer than weird, though, and he slipped in hands on the other man’s neck as he deepened the kiss. His chin was brushing against Wade’s nose as his hands tightened on Peter’s shoulders.

“Oomph!”

Peter felt a force pushing him down by the shoulders, his legs leaving the ledge he was supporting himself on and before he knew it, his ass was on the hard ground as Wade was guffawing at him.


	18. 10 Signs of a Troubled Teen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brawl at school. Uncle Ben isn't happy and Wade is proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that I have been writing Flash as this villain character and Gwen as Hermione hahaha

“Parker!”

The hand that was supporting his head slipped and hit the hard-wooden surface in front of him while his head struggled to stay upward for an awful second that caused his heart to skip a beat in the way missing the last step of a staircase would. He had been dreaming of tall buildings reaching up to white fluffy clouds and of his fingers grazing the belly of a plane like it was just a simple kite. He remembered falling as he awoke, causing it to be all the more abrupt with the deep uneasiness that settled in his stomach when he gained consciousness again. His eyes opened wide and stopped on the woman standing tall in front of the classroom, only two rows of desks away from him. Peter could hear murmurs and low laughs around the room and everyone’s eyes on him, which only made him regret his bad habit of sleeping with his mouth wide open even more than was humanly possible.

“Are you with us?” his teacher questioned, not sounding quite as amused as the rest of the people in the room.

“Uh, sorry? Hm…”

It was the first time he had been called out of his excessive drowsiness in the middle of classes. Maybe his science teacher had had enough of giving him a pass given the fact that he hadn’t been much of an exemplary student recently. Usually, Gwen was there to give him a good shove on the arm to wake him up before he could miss everything. But while she was actually present on that day, to his left looking at him sideways as though there was no way she could ever be affiliated with him, it didn’t seem like she had bugged him at all throughout that class. Maybe she had gotten tired too of him just slumping back into his desk after only just a few minutes.

“Stay focus, okay?” Mrs. Grant told him, giving him a pointed look in front of everyone.

“Of course, of course, yeah…” he trailed off clumsily, his voice still quite hoarse by sleep. He tried covering the pool of drool on the palm of his hand, but the woman had already gone back to the writings on her blackboard.

Peter looked down at the blank page of the opened notebook in front of him and then almost instinctively to his friend’s desk to his left, the page of notes in front of her so convoluted he wondered how Gwen could decipher the small writing herself. She didn’t bother looking back at him and only brought her notebook closer to herself by one rapid move of her arm that managed to block his view in the process.

Peter hadn’t had enough sleep, which was a problem most of these days. He hadn’t had much time in the last three weeks. When he wasn’t at the lab with Dr. Connors, he was sat on his bedroom floor or stuck to his ceiling writing down new solutions they could try next. And when he wasn’t doing _that_ , he was at Wade’s, and there just say, he didn’t want to waste any minutes he could spend with Wade sleeping. Although it was kind of nice the nights he would pretend being too tired to go home and they did. The coziest nights of his life, really. Wade’s chest and arms were pretty comfortable. _Yuck._ If he was to continue in that train of thought he could very well see himself leaning his chin into his hand and sighing dreamily while he stared into the distance, not that he hadn’t done that before.

The rest of the class went like a blur and despite how Gwen had ignored throughout the entire time, she was waiting for him at the end of it as always, standing by his desk without a word. That was until she decided Peter was putting away his stuff way too sluggishly for her liking, which he really was anyway.

“Argh, you’re so slow!”

Usually, Peter would have laughed at Gwen’s eagerness to leave a classroom, but it was their last period of the day and, even on a much better day than this one, he would have a problem keeping up with her. Still, he let out a light chuckle as he picked up his stuffed backpack from the floor and got up. A chill ran through his entire body as the cold air unpleasantly hit the back of his clad thighs that had been warming up on his chair for hours. He followed the blonde out of the room to the crowded hallway like he had done so many other times before, his hands kept warm inside of the front pocket of his gray hoodie. It was one of Wade’s. It didn’t have the greatest smell anymore, but still one of his nonetheless. He would have to lend it back or borrow another one if he ever wanted the same initial scent he picked it up for in the first place. The slight oversized aspect didn’t hurt either.

Students were hurrying out the doors while other were still picking out stuff and putting on jackets and beanies from their lockers, all of their voices mixing together to create the racket Peter loathed so much. Per usual, Harry was already leaning against Peter’s locker, his hair pulled back by all of the gel he was putting in there every morning and pricey sunglasses hooked to the pocket of his shirt that Peter knew for a fact that costed more than the entirety of his and Gwen’s wardrobes combined. Peter dragged his feet behind the blonde, not sure what to make of the shit-eating grin on Harry’s face as his eyes examined him.

Harry grabbed his shoulder only to shake it vigorously, causing Peter to start blinking repeatedly all startled, at the same time as he said, “the boyfriend’s been keeping you awake, uh?”

“Yuck, Harry!” Gwen reacted, two lockers to their left.

“What? At least one of us is getting laid,” Harry remarked, releasing Peter’s shoulder to turn to her as if he had no idea how Gwen hadn’t considered that _glaring_ fact before.

“Your girlfriend broke up with you?” Peter asked him, even though he couldn’t for the life of him remember how she was called.

“She wasn’t my girlfriend!”

“Yeah, just another one of…” Gwen’s voice came up right behind Harry but was interrupted by another as disagreeable to their ears as it was obnoxiously loud. To Peter’s disenchantment, his head and the ones of his two friends weren’t the only ones who turned at its source.

“Little Parker has got a boyfriend?”

It was as though Flash’s ears had perked up like a mischievous dog at the slight mention of something personal and potentially embarrassing from Peter’s life. He was beginning to suspect the guy to have some sort of powers, too, given that he seemed to always materialize out of thin air at the worst possible moments.

Peter let out a long, tired sigh before retorting back, not bothered enough to turn away from his locker to fully face the tall teenager, “fuck off, Flash.”

“Oh, girly is on his period? You better tell your boyfriend!” he uttered out in the most annoyingly _unfunny_ teasing tone, emphasizing on that last word again like it was some crazy new word he had just found out about.

“If that makes you happy,” Peter let out in annoyance, hoping he would just leave it at that, but it seemed like the guy had grabbed onto something like a fly would have after finding the tear in a trash bag that had started spilling on the side.

But, of course, it wasn’t that easy. Peter knew something that would shut him up once and for all, but as much as he desired to give the guy a good punch that would erase the smug grin out of his stupid face, he didn’t want to look like this crazy person. Yet, like a gift from hell itself, the opportunity was given to him on a golden plate and that worry had pushed out of the window.

“You must have good plans for tonight, then, uh? You’re the girl, right? Isn’t that what you homos do?”

The door to Peter’s locker was closed with a loud snap by the force of Flash’s hand, only missing to hit his head with the help of his over-developed reflexes. However, it was the guy’s words that resonated like poison inside of Peter's head. He could feel his blood boiling as it spread like fire inside of his veins.

“Pete, what are you…”

He ignored Gwen’s silent call for him as he slid his backpack off his shoulder and drop it to the ground without a care before finally facing the taller and much muscular teenager. In one swift move, Peter grabbed him by the front of his tee-shirt and smashed him against the very locker door he had closed in his face and let him slide down it. A slight dent had appeared on the metallic surface where the guy’s muscular shoulder had hit. It was almost complete silence for two mere seconds before anyone around them reacted, but Peter was too busy staring down at fuming face of Flash to really care.

He saw Flash’s fist rising like it was doing so at a slowed-up speed, the hair at the back of his neck and on his forearms raising all at once. Peter had the time to leaned away before it could hit him right in the jaw. It was too easy to shove a stumbling Flash away with outstretched palms and watch triumphantly as he fell on the floor and slide backward on his ass. His back hit some other person’s locker loudly under the crowd’s surprised exclamations. Flash’s cellphone had slipped off of his pockets and had slid across the floor further away from him. A lot more students had gathered around the scene, some of them pointing their phones at them.

“You’re dead, Parker!” Flash shouted at him as he got back on his feet and walked toward him, clenching his fists menacingly for good measure.

Peter didn’t answer but instead grabbed the other teenager left forearm before it could make another shot at his face and twisted it away from him. It was not enough to break his arm, but just enough so he would shriek in pain, and he did. Peter could hear the crowd around them exclaiming a collective “OH!” and only released his tight grip to direct, just because he could, a punch to Flash’s right jaw. The tall guy stumbled backward again, falling to the ground once more by another good shove of Peter’s hands.

He was thinking back of that night in the alley and how easily it had been for him to break that guy’s nose and that other guy’s leg. It was this much more satisfying, now. Yes, those men had been trying to start shit with him and Wade, but he didn’t know them. It was very different with Flash. Peter wanted to break both of his legs so he couldn’t play another one of those stupid football games for the rest of the year. He wanted to see his nose bleeding profusely like his own had been throughout that whole afternoon back in tenth grade and so many days after that. He wanted to hear the laughs of the other students as Flash would have no choice but to squeeze his stinky shirt above a trashcan just to be able to attend class without energy drinks that were spilled on him dripping onto the ground as he went.

Peter walked toward Flash as the guy was maladroitly getting back to his feet to face up to him. He felt a hand grabbing his upper arm before he could raise it toward the other teenager’s face again and very nearly elbowed the unknown person that was stopping him before he could stop himself. Flash’s face was bright red in rage, that much was nothing new, but there wasn’t any trace of hilarity found on his face. There was the beginning of a purple mark on his forearm, as well as his cheek, and a long single droplet of blood running out of his right’s nostril. Peter couldn’t feel any kind of relief or contentment in him, though, like he thought he would, and he was pretty sure the petrified look Harry and Gwen gave him when he caught their eyes as he was led to the principal office next to Flash would haunt him for a while.

The moment between which he had to wait in the waiting area for the principal’s office and the dreadful moment he could start hearing his uncle’s fast and short steps on the school tiles hadn’t been that long all things considered. His neck was tilting downward heavily, almost painfully so, his eyes staring at his knees. There were three small dots of blood on the sleeve of his hoodie, by the wrist, and standing out over the gray tissue. His hands had been trembling too much to pick up his phone and text Wade like he wanted to. If the man was there, he would have been lightening the situation, telling him that Flash deserved it and that a stuck-up principal couldn’t fuck up his whole life in an instance. That last part Peter wasn’t so sure right now, hence the need for his boyfriend’s reassurance.

“Peter!” uncle Ben called out for him once he had turned the corner only to spot his nephew sat all dejected on that grey prickly chair. “Peter, is it true? What happened?”

He was trying to give him the benefice of the doubt, Peter could tell. But he could still hear very clearly the hidden disappointment in his uncle’s voice. He couldn’t even imagine what would happen once his aunt learned about it. Either she was going to disown him or give him the silent treatment, and he didn’t know which one was worst.

“He provoked me,” he simply said. He couldn’t dare look up and see the face of let-down he knew his uncle was sporting.

“Since when do you beat up a kid when someone _provokes_ you? That’s not like you, Peter.”

“He’s a prick.”

“Why does it matter?”

The young man finally raised his head to meet his uncle’s eyes, “so what, I should just turn the other cheek, like all the other times?”

Ben was standing right in front of him, his arms crossed over his long-sleeved shirt and his small glasses perched on his nose He looked tired as he was staring down at him, his lips tightly pressed together in a thin line while his forehead showed even deeper creases than usual. He had rarely seen the man this tense. The angrier Peter had ever seen him probably was that time back when he was twelves and had set on fire his bedroom’s carpet with his brand-new science kit. Now, there was much more than that.

He saw the man’s mouth opened to riposte something, but before Peter could know what it was, he was broke off by the door to the principal office opening to their right. “Mr. Parker?”

Peter was glad Flash had left before his uncle had arrived. The bruises and the bloody nose wouldn’t have helped his case and certainly wouldn’t have improved Ben’s opinion of him right now. As expected, he was given detentions every Friday for the next three months. Could’ve been worse. Maybe his formerly spotless record had helped a little bit with that, as well as his uncle vouching for him. Peter didn’t truly know if the elderly man meant everything he was saying, but, knowing him, he was probably holding a lot back.

“He’s a good kid. This Thompson kid had been tormenting him for years now without the school doing anything!”

“He will be punished as well, don’t you worry, sir.”

But the worst part wasn’t the months of detentions, it was the fact that Flash had the nerve of requesting him to pay for the broken screen of his phone, as though he had cared when it was Peter’s who had been wrecked. Ben didn’t appear too happy about it, but he assured the principal that they would pay for any damaged Peter caused without any hint of reluctance in his voice, the good man.

Walking through the empty school hallways by his uncle’s side was a very tense and silent experience Peter really didn’t want to live again. Every single yellow school bus had left the establishment’s parking, only a few tardy students still hanging around. It was only then, as he sat in his uncle’s old rusty car, that Peter felt it was okay to pull his cell phone out from his pocket.

(15:45) **_Guess what_**

Wade’s reply came pretty quickly, even before the car had left the school’s property. Ben hadn’t opened the radio or anything, and the silence in the small compartment felt way worse than back in the echoing high school.

(15:46) **You discovered a cure for cancer?**

(15:46) **_Got detentions for fighting back against Flash_**

(15:47) **You could be the subject of a Buzzfeed article on troubled teens you know that?**

(15:47) **How does he look?**

(15:47) **_Worst than me that’s for sure_**

(15:50) **He didn’t stand a fucking chance baby**

(15:50) **Did you smash his face in a locker like I told you??**

He wanted to type an answer, but the car had stopped at a red light and Ben had turned his head to give a piercing look in his direction.

“Is it Wade?” his uncle asked, glancing down at his phone quickly before focusing back on the road and crossing the green light. “Tell him you’re grounded and he won’t see you for a while.”

“Aw, come on!”

“Peter…” was all Ben could let out before Peter interjected, practically exploding with the frustration that had been building up since stepping into the principal office. “He deserved it!”

“Did he? He deserved to get his phone and nose broken?”

Peter understood it was only a rhetorical question, but he couldn’t help but get on the defensive and answer anyway, desperate not to show the shame he knew he was feeling deep down.

“It’s not…”

“You said you didn’t want to turn the other cheek anymore. But did it have to come to that? You know that’s not the right thing to do. You hadn’t talked to your aunt and I about it in a while, we thought the kid had stopped.”

Peter looked down at his shoes resting against the dirty carpet of the car and at his awkwardly bent legs and missed the very quick but kind and sympathetic look his uncle gave him.

The man continued, both eyes on the road, “you know you could have told me? I know I’m just your old uncle and I’m not very intimidating, but I could have called the kid’s dad. That usually worked back in my days.”

The outline of a smile appeared on Peter’s face.

“I don’t think that would’ve worked. Flash is very persistent.”

So much so that he couldn’t pretend the thought of sending Wade to scare the guy off hadn’t crossed his mind once or twice. Or maybe it was because the Merc had offered it so many times that the idea had ingrained into his brain, but either way, the guy was a jerk.

“At least you feel pretty good about yourself now? You finally got back at him, isn’t it what you wanted?”

Peter paused, but it was only for a few seconds. He didn’t have to think too much or dig too deep into himself before replying quietly, “no… I guess not.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Well, thanks to this little boxing match or yours, I had to change shifts at work, which I will have to take a lot more of now that we have that kid’s phone to repay. So, you have to pick up your aunt May tonight at nine o’clock, understood?”

“I’m sorry…”

“Is that understood?” Ben asked him again, his voice hard and unmoving.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He patted Peter’s shoulder without looking at him, and said, much softer now, “it’s okay, son. You’re in a weird period of your life right now. Your body is changing, and everything. I get it. I was a teenager too, once.”

Peter felt his phone vibrating against his thighs and looked down to his lit-up screen.

(16:02) **I would give up an eyeball just to see that**

“We haven’t seen him in a while. We’re not cool enough for you guys?” Ben mentioned teasingly, having glanced too at the small screen Peter had brought closer to his face, his voice the most playful Peter had heard it all day. “You’re always back at his place.”

On multiple occasions, Wade had insisted on going to his aunt and uncle’s house. But after that second time, where Peter had ended up being put to into the sideline while his aunt and uncle monopolized Wade in the living room to watch with him too many episodes to count of this old medical drama that had probably ended decades ago, he had tried to scarce those visit a little bit. Well, it wasn’t like the Merc had been forced or anything, or that he wasn’t the one who appeared the most enthusiast out of the three. Or, as a matter of fact, that he hadn’t been the one proposing to watch the thing, in the first place, when he saw it when May was changing the channels. But Peter felt his body tensed up a little bit more than it already was. Neither his aunt or his uncle had any idea about his regular appointments with Dr. Connors and he had no plan of ever letting them know. He was actually pretty surprised when Gwen had never brought it up to him. He would have thought the scientist would have mentioned something about it, given the fact that her job basically consisted of working tightly with him, and all.

“We came by just this last Friday, remember?” the 18 years old remarked as nonchalantly as he could. “And aren’t you guys busy with your own stuff?”

Ben scoffed and said, somewhat resentfully, “how would you know? You’re barely at home anymore.”

Peter didn’t dare say anything else after that, especially since he was supposed to join Dr. Connors at the lab later in only a few hours. His phone stayed balancing on his thigh throughout the remainder of the quiet car ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap yourself for the next chapter it's kinda of a sad one EH


	19. The Hanged Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade gets sad news and a sad Peter to take care of.

It had been a while since he had turned the switch off to an old dude. Usually, Wade would have chat and mess with him a little bit more than he was now, but there was just no talking with that one. Honestly, he really just wanted to shorten the time he had to look at that old rapist’s face as much as possible. The irritation he had already been feeling even before sneaking inside this dude’s apartment window wasn’t helping either.

He knew he was being an irrational dick, but he couldn’t help it, as stupid and irrational as it was. But was it too much to ask for a follow up after being told about Peter’s fight? His last text was timed about seven hours ago, not that he was fucking lovesick enough to count or anything. Was his cell phone taken as a punishment? The guy was 18 _,_ wasn’t he getting too old for that? Wasn’t that what parents do when their child punched another one, though? Wade could very well see May and Ben doing that. On the other hand, he could also picture Peter building a new one out of some of the trash on his desk in less than an hour later. Maybe he could send a little visit to their house after this since he knew for a fact Peter wouldn’t be sleeping until it was about three or four in the morning, the nerd. However, if his phone wasn’t taken away, he sure as hell was prohibited from leaving the house except for school for a while.

“P-please! Just, please! Do-don’t do it!” the old man was crying out, his voice pained like a wounded animal that knew was about to get put down.

His knees looked as though they were about to give out underneath him and collapse onto the bushy brown carpet of his living room. His back was bending upward so much that it was nearly forming a perfect half-circle from the side. Wade grimaced in disgust at the tears coming out of his eyes and at the repulsive yellowish fingernails of his hands reaching out for him in pleading.

“You know I could just cut off your dick and leave you like that, right?” Wade told him, looking down at the rifle in his hands, moving it slowly between his finger with excessive emphasis. He then reached inside of his jacket for his knife, raising it in front of his face as though he had no idea how it had gotten there, before adding, “or is that what you want?”

“NO! No, no, no…” the man sobbed, his palms closing on his wet face as his entire body shivered with his violent sobs.

Wade felt a short vibration coming from the back pocket of his jeans. Despite how easy it would have been for him to miss it, it had the same effect on him as a good slap at the back of his head, or more like as if someone had switched on a light panel in his brain with ‘PETER’ in big red flashing letters on it. Maybe with a bit more intent in mind than simply to spite the crumpling man in front of him, he replaced the knife in his hand with his phone and angled his gun in his left one just so it would still casually be aiming right at the offender’s head.

“Hold on a minute, dude. Just, hold it there!”

He looked at the screen of his phone, not actually expecting a message from Peter, but not expecting anyone else either. What he really didn’t expect, though, was the unusual tone it had. It was not quite normal for Peter’s texts to leave a bad taste in his mouth. Not even when he had informed him of the fight had he sounded this fucking… _serious_. Was he still talking about that?

(23:14) **_I should’ve never gotten those powers_**

(23:14) ** _I don’t deserve to have them_**

(23:14) ** _Shit, Wade_**

Wade could feel the cool, nonchalant expression he usually kept on his face during a hit changing to one of acute confusion despite his best effort as he read Peter’s words. There was something wrong with it. Messages after messages kept coming one after the other right in front of his eyes. After maybe a minute, he looked away from the screen as it kept lightening up with new alarmingly dark texts from Peter, focusing again on the broken shell of a man who hadn’t even tried to move away or stopped bawling his entire worthless life out in front of him.

(23:15) **_I killed him, Wade_**

(23:15) **_It should have been me_**

(23:15) **_He’s dead and it’s all my fault_**

(23:15) **_Wade_**

(23:15) **_It hurts_**

The pistol pointing right between the man’s eyes, the silencer brushing the spot oh so slightly, he pulled the trigger without thinking too much about it and rushed out of the front door. His phone was already firmly pressed against his ear before the lifeless body of the man he had left behind him had reached the ground. Wade’s left hand fumbled distractedly with his gun for a bit as it struggled to find its place inside of his holster underneath his jacket. His eyes were too busy trying to find Peter’s contact on his phone without tripping over to focus on anything else.

 _Why did I take the fucking stairs?_ he pondered impatiently to himself before Peter ultimately picked up which very nearly caused him to halt his hasty progression down altogether.

There was only silence on the other end for a few seconds before Wade couldn’t take it anymore and uncertainly called out, almost timidly, into the phone, “Peter?”

The lone word echoed loudly with his steps in the empty apartment building’s staircase. There was a short moment where Wade hoped Peter wouldn’t have answered him. Hearing the tone of his voice only brought the feeling of getting rocks thrown at his guts and a skewer inserted into his heart like uncooked meat. Not a great feeling overall and very far from the sentiment of warmth and ease he usually got from one of Peter’s nightly calls.

“Wade, it’s all my fault… Wade I- I killed him, that’s on me. It’s all on me!”

The boy’s words were coming out harshly as if it was the greatest effort just getting them out of his throat.

“What? What do you mean you killed him?” the Merc whispered hurriedly while he kicked opened to the door leading to the parking outside, the surge of cold wind hitting him in the face and ruffling his clothes. “You mean that Thompson guy?”

“No, not that, I… I…”

Peter’s voice trailed off and was replaced by loud shuffling that led Wade to believe the man had dropped the phone from his ear to press it against his pants, as though he didn’t want him to hear something. Despite it, Wade could swear he heard muffled cries on the other end of the call.

“Pete. Please, tell me what’s going on here?” Wade nothing but implored the guy, his steps fast on the pavement covered in wet leaves. He could see his breath coming out in quick puffs of fog in front of him and in the darkness of the street. “Please? Baby?”

_Maybe I should invest in a car next._

“Where are you? Are you at your house?” he tried asking next, getting pretty desperate for any kind of response at this point. _What if he’s in danger? What If there was…_

“No. I’m-” Peter let out a cracked and trembling sigh. He was less shaky when he resumed where he had cut himself off, “I’m at your place. The building. On the roof.”

“On the roof?” Wade retorted back as he made a complete 360 to the other direction, the actual one to his apartment. “What are you doing there? It’s cold as fuck out here!”

“I needed air.”

“Oh, okay, okay.” He nodded repeatedly to no one, as it was more to convince himself of any understanding that he had over the situation. Regardless, he couldn’t help himself but to immediately follow it with, through a dreadfully awkward chuckle, “you don’t wanna enlighten a guy a bit? I’m kinda at a lost here.”

“It’s uh… It’s a- It’s a long story.”

“Okay, well, I’m on my way. Just hold on for a little while, baby, I’m coming,” he assured, not feeling that reassurance himself at all.

 

* * * *

 

The door to the roof opened without much struggle at all. It was actually quite nice up there now that there wasn’t any rain to slap them in the face and slip through both of their underwear. But then again, the mood had also drastically changed. It was far different from the adrenaline the both of them were feeling after flying out of a crime scene like giddy fugitives. Now, it almost seemed like time had stopped the moment Wade had set foot on the rooftop. Perhaps it was just the fact that Peter appeared so still and quiet. It was actually scaring Wade a little bit. Well, it was definitely a lot scarier and incredibly less hot than what witnessing Peter beating up those thieves in that alley had been.

Wade could see his dark figure on the ground, sitting close to the edge. He took some tentative steps toward it, squinting a bit as he approached. Peter had his back to him, his knees tucked against his chest while his arms were loosely hugging his legs. His gaze seemed directed at nothing in particular, or just at the quite boring and dim horizon ahead. He walked over until he was standing right behind him, yet the young man had done nothing to show he was aware of Wade’s presence on the roof with him. His hand reached out for his shoulder, leaning down until he was kneeling beside him. Wade was glad Peter had ditched his habit of jumping five meters away at every unwarned touch. He must have grown used to his grabby hands and his overbearing presence. Or something like that.

“Pete?” he whispered softly, breaking the oppressive silence that had been installed over the rooftop before his arrival.

Wade’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as Peter didn’t wait any seconds to reply “he shot him.”

His voice, while sounding utterly distressed like he had never heard it before, resonated loud and clear in Wade’s ears, though, the words didn’t seem to reach Wade’s brain like he knew they were supposed to.

“I- Pete… I’m sorry, I don’t understand…”

Peter turned his head at him and looked at him for the first time since he got there. While Wade couldn’t see the expression on his face very well in that darkness, he sounded angry when he declared, “my uncle is dead, Wade.”

He couldn’t control what came out of his mouth and just replied, only sounding incredibly incredulous and probably very daft, “whoa, what?”

Wade shifted clumsily on his knees a bit, getting close enough for him to actually see Peter’s face and all of its details. For a dreadful moment, where all he could do was stare back blankly at Peter’s reddish watery eyes as he mentally punched himself in the face, Wade thought his reaction had been a bit too insensitive. But he just couldn’t wrap his head around it. There was just no way, was it?

 _No… No fucking way. That’s… no,_ he thought over and over until, as a wordless affirmation, he saw Peter slowly leaning toward him until his left side was all but fully pressed against Wade’s chest. It was like he was silently asking to be held and Wade was all too happy to oblige him. He felt a wave of affection bigger than he had ever felt before in his life slipping through his limbs like wildfire. It was only then that it all clicked inside of his brain, as his arm raised up to enclose the young man’s back. He was only wearing the grey hoodie Wade had thrown at him one morning when he was running late for school. He could feel his body shivering all over against his with what the Merc could only assume was from cold and especially from the flow of tears that had started wetting his tee-shirt, just under the neckline where his head was resting. His hands, clutching at Wade’s inner thigh just above his knees, appeared to be an angry red. He could feel just how cold they were through the material of his jeans.

Livid, Wade gulped uneasily. He kept opening his mouth and closing it again without anything right in mind to say for the few minutes he stayed just holding Peter close to him. One hand was now at the back of Peter’s head, his fingers buried in the mass of hair and softly scratching there from time to time, hoping it would ease the boy’s quiet cries even just a little bit. He couldn’t pretend the state Peter was currently in wasn’t paining him or that the… _news_ didn’t have any effect on him, but his confusion over the whole situation was way too strong for him to ignore it completely. What the fuck could have possibly happened in seven hours? What exactly were the things that had led up to this?

The mercenary wouldn’t let himself think of the possibilities given to him by Peter’s texts and call without sending his mind into somewhat of a murderous tangent. One led by the sheer force of the fondness, or was that love, for the boy he was tightly holding in his arms, almost like he wanted to serve as his own human lifebuoy.

“You, um… you wanna tell me what happened?”

He felt Peter nodding against his chest before he started vigorously rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He detached himself from Wade slightly and sat up like he was before, only now his left leg was still completely flush to the Merc. His eyes were turned toward the other apartment building to their right, avoiding Wade’s, as his hands closed into tight fists on his knees. Wade wouldn’t risk touching him again to avoid upsetting him.

“I forgot to pick up Aunt May after her shift, cause I was, you know, back at Oscorp with Dr. Connors. It was the only thing he asked me to do after that stupid fight with Flash and I couldn’t even do that!” His tone was heavily tinted with shame and remorse. Embarrassment, even, very notably so when he continued, “we got into a fight, my um… uncle and I. And I just ran out. I thought I could go to your place or something.”

Peter paused to look down at his hands still resting in tights fists on his knees. Wade was staring at his face, though, and at his cheeks covered in tears that had yet to dry out. He could almost feel the tip of his fingers burning with the urge to wipe them away.

“This guy stole from that store I was in and I let it happen. I did _nothing_ and he went and shot… Shit.” He stopped himself, his eyes still resolutely locked on his hands. “Ben went after me. If I hadn’t been such a prick he wouldn’t have gone after me and he wouldn’t be dead now.”

Being in Peter’s presence at that moment was sending an overwhelming wave of guilt over Wade, mixed with all of the other shits he was feeling that was thrown at him right now. It was less in the customary _‘I don’t even deserve to be laying my eyes on you’_ and more of that _‘I’m a hypocrite that kills people just like your uncle was killed’_. The gun inside of his jacket felt like it was weighing a ton and he had to resist the impulse to throw it in front of them off the roof. But, of course, Peter would surely notice that. Though, looking down at Peter’s dark, sorrowful eyes, the thought of hunting down that dude wouldn’t escape his mind. Which was, in a way, a pretty uncommon thing for him since it wasn’t usually in a surge of affection or love that he fantasized cutting someone’s throat this vehemently. Quite the opposite, in fact, given that his motivation usually rhymed with words like ‘honey’ and ‘nurdering nendency’.

How could he pretend to be there for Peter when he was just as bad as the guy who had killed his father figure? Why was it that he cared so much? Why did it hurt so much? He hadn’t known Ben for a while, not even for a few months, so why did it feel as though one of his family members had just died? This hopelessness was oppressive, crushing at his lungs and clouding his brain.

“You weren’t-” He didn’t really know what he was going to say, but thankfully, he was cut off by Peter. Not by his words, but by the abrupt movement he made after such a still moment. His fists had untightened themselves to cover his face while his body started shivering with renewed vigor. A cold breeze had reached their rooftop and was wavering some strands of the young man’s hair slightly to the side. His backpack was nowhere to be found as he didn’t appear to have anything on him except his cell phone and his clothes. He looked so small and insignificant compared to the unstoppable force Wade had come to see him as.

Wade stiffly passed a hand through his own hair before he finally brought himself to say, his face leaning a bit toward the other man’s shoulder until his chin was lightly resting on it, “come on, let’s go inside…”

“Yeah,” Peter replied so quietly Wade might have not understood what he had said without him actually shifting against him to get back on his feet. Wade’s hand instinctively reached for his arm to help him up and was happy to realize the young man wasn’t pushing him away. But that was shortly before it occurred to him that perhaps Peter hadn’t come to the same conclusion as him about him being as bad as the guy who had killed his uncle. Was he being selfish thinking he never wanted Peter to recognize that?

Peter was slowly walking behind him, his feet dragging on the gravel underneath them as though dragging himself somewhere else was the hardest thing he could ever be doing right now, which, if Wade did know anything about grief, was probably the truth. Going down two floors or stairs was a lot of a slower progression than it had been all of those weeks ago when all of their worries were focused on getting each other out of their wet clothes.

His fingers were touching Peter’s lower back once they had finally reached his apartment, leading him inside. He was glad it was actually much cleaner than usual. Yes, there was still the usual boxes of takeout laying around on his kitchen counters, but most of them were from one of their evenings together. Peter was standing in the middle of the room, looking at Wade as he went around putting some lights on. Although he had been there numerous times before, he looked just as if he had never set foot inside the place. Like he had no idea what to do with himself.

Wade could see him much more clearly now. His hands, nose, and cheeks were even redder than he had expected them to be back on the roof. The outline of his eyes was a dark red as well. Dark circles had appeared under them, giving him an awfully weary look that matched the way his shoulders were dropping a bit forward.

He was already holding out a glass of water to Peter when he asked him, “you’re thirsty?”

“Um, I… think so?”

Wade watched him for a few seconds taking long, difficult swigs of water before he went away toward his bed to find some warmer clothes for him to put on.

“You can change if you want,” he told Peter, holding out for him a pitch-black hoodie and a pair of grey sweatpants. He took it into his hands without any fight at all, looking down at the pieces of clothing with a blank eye. It was all too familiar and strange at the same time.

“Okay…”

Wade nodded before silently making his way to the bathroom, hearing Peter’s shoes shifting slightly on the living room carpet. The door creaked like hell in the dead quiet apartment. The light in the small room blinded him for a few seconds where he could even see his own reflection in the bathroom mirror without having white spots all over his vision. Harsh breaths escaped out of his mouth as he ran a hand across his face. His arms fell to his sides before he reached for the counter and closed his fists hard on the edge of it, close to the missing chunk Peter had inadvertently ripped out that first day after the bite.

His eyes stayed closed shut as he kept letting out harsh outtakes of breath. It was taking everything out of him not to storm out of the place to go hunt down some trigger-happy son of a bitch. It would be easy. He knew how to find scumbags like him. He sure knew how to take them out… It would be so easy… His pulse was visible underneath the skin of his wrists, veins popping up until he slackened his tight grip on the bathroom counter altogether. What kind of a dickhead boyfriend would he be to leave Peter like that? To commit murder of all things?

His stomach still felt like it was filled with heavy invisible rocks, only now they were reaching to the top and crushing all of his organs and arranging them in a painful twist.

The young man was no longer standing in the middle of the room when Wade got back. He quickly spotted him with his naked back turned to him. Peter was sitting over the covers on the left side of the bed, _his_ , and had already changed into the new pair of pants, his stiff jeans laying upside-out on the floor by his feet. The black hoodie had been left untouched beside him. Peter didn’t seem to have any plan to do to something with it anytime soon.

He walked toward him, staring at the back of his head. “Pete?” he called out, softly, once he was close enough for his knees to be pressed against the mattress. Peter’s head didn’t turn to him, then.

“Mm?”

His response was faint, faraway. He was chewing on his lip, still not looking at Wade when he picked up the hoodie from the bed.

“Tryin’ to have frosty nipples, here?” Wade blurted out, his face changing into a weird frown even before the first few words had come out of his mouth.

Peter let out a short, amused snort, either way, looking up at him. There was a very faint hint of light in the depth of his eyes when he ended up locking them with Wade’s, though, it died out straightaway like it was never there.

One hand reached out for the piece of clothing in older man’s hands, but he stopped him. “Lemme…” Wade mumbled, kneeling in front of the other man, _he seemed to do that a lot_ , and raised the top above both of their heads. If it was any other day, Peter would have rolled his eyes at him while grumbling something about him being perfectly capable to dress himself, which, Wade would most likely have followed with a few licks to the tip of the young man’s nose like he knew he hated. His stare was passing through him as he stayed silent. The room was so quiet, in fact, that the Merc could hear his own pulse beating against his chest and neck. He swore he could hear Peter’s too, but he could only feel it underneath his fingers. The top on all the way, he let his hands slip inside of its sleeves where only Peter’s short fingernails were pocking out.

“Shit…” Wade hissed, his palms running over Peter’s dried cold ones.

He wanted to tell him it was going to be alright, that everything would be better tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie to him at that moment. He wordlessly laid his head on Peter’s knee, instead, his forehead covering both the hoodie’s sleeve and Peter’s hand underneath. Wade’s had moved on the sheet beside the man’s thigh, two of his fingers playing with the soft material there as he tried to fight back the tears that had threatened to come out since he had stepped inside the bathroom and had been left all alone with himself for a little while.

Peter was completely still and stayed like that until Wade ultimately moved away after barely a minute. Maybe he hadn’t had the opportunity to do so, but Wade had already turned away to turn off the lamp in the living room as well as the other ones he had turned on when coming in here. When he came to the bed, Peter was laying down on his right side, facing the window, his hands buried inside of the front pocket of his hoodie while the blanket was only covering his legs. Wade turned off the one on his bedside table, his eyes avoiding the pictures Peter had taken with his instant camera and left there for him. The teenager had kept the rest of them for himself. Knowing him, there was a big chance there were about twenty stupid selfies of the two of them hung all over his bedroom’s walls at the moment.

Wade started changing out of his clothes. He was placing his holster under the bed, hiding it under a dirty tee-shirt that had been laying around, when Peter’s voice came in the complete darkness, making him jumped a little. “I left May all alone…”

He felt like shit not giving Peter any answer at all, especially since the thought of how the guy’s aunt must be taking the news right now hadn’t occurred to him once, until then. Maybe that was a good thing, given the way his stomach dropped just at the idea of that poor woman sitting all by herself in an empty house knowing that her husband had been killed just a few hours earlier in cold blood. Wade settled under the blanket, trying not to feel too guilty about it. Perhaps it would be better, for Peter’s sake, for him to go sleep on his couch, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, mainly because of the way the young man’s body shifted closer to his on the bed when he went to settle beside him under the blanket. He covered them both with it, bringing Peter closer to him half out of habit.

“Wade?”

“Mm?”

“Am I a bad person?”

“Fuck, no…” _But, I am…_ he wanted to add, but he didn’t, and, as an alternative, only tightened his arm around Peter’s side.

Wade stayed wide awake all night. He could tell Peter did too. His mind kept flooding with images of a faceless guy getting his head bashed in by a metal pipe while the broken pieces of what was left of his gun laid in the pile of blood. He wondered if that was where Peter’s was going as well.


	20. Your Mess is Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral for a good man. Wade tries to find where to put the blame.

_White male, age thirty-five to forty, about six feet tall, shoulder-length hair, blonde, was seen wearing black sunglasses at the time of the crime, in possession of a firearm…_

Wade could finally catch a sight of the two exact people he was looking for, standing by an old blue rusty car. It was more or less raining. It was more of a drizzle, really. A light mist had settled over the streets, giving it even more of a sleepy, almost serene, atmosphere. It was barely nine in the morning, but he had been awake for a long time, wondering at what time he could leave without showing up too early. Wade kept fiddling with the tie around his neck, adjusting over and over again all his way there. It was a deep shade of red, almost brown, and badly wrinkled. He could vaguely remember wearing it at his old man’s funeral. He had not stayed long enough to pay his ‘respects’ anyway and it had been sitting at the bottom of his drawer since then. Wade wiped his clammy hands on his black trousers. His long-sleeved shirt underneath the jacket of his suit felt tight and just… not right on him. Multiple times that morning, he had almost picked up his razor to shave while waiting around but had decided against it.

Would have Ben really care if he was cleaned shaven or not at his funeral? Maybe May would care… but would she? She had other things to worry about. _Like the death or her husband, for one thing, shithead?_ he reasoned bitterly to himself. His mind had been racing with the same stupid shits all night, as though there was his way to distract himself from the painful time that was coming. Peter had insisted on him joining them at the funeral home instead of their house. If Wade had to guess, it probably had to do with his aunt. He couldn’t expect the woman to be fine on a day like this, even if she were to admit the opposite to his face. And him, a dude who she still barely knew, walking around her house all morning while she struggled not to break down over her morning cup of coffee surely wouldn’t have been the best thing for her.

He could see them more clearly, now. Peter had his back to him while May was standing beside him, facing Wade’s direction. She was tightening her black knitted shawl, like a hug, around herself, as he was approaching them in the parking lot. It was odd seeing her without her husband, since, in his head, one didn’t come without the other. He might have to get accustomed to that. _Imagine how that must feel for her…_ She didn’t notice him walking toward them until Peter was the one that turned his head around at the sound of his steps. He didn’t smile at him, but the Merc did notice a flicker of something in those cheerless, beautiful eyes of his when they locked on him. He was wearing a black suit very similar to Wade’s, only, instead of looking completely out of place on him, he was looking positively breathtaking in it. Like his aunt, his hair had a thin layer of very tiny drizzles, like watery glitters, over it and was beginning to fall down a bit. His face looked quite pale but so stunning in the soft morning light that it was actually difficult for Wade to look away from it without blurting all of that out. Maybe he would have if it wasn’t from the quite unfortunate fact that they were about to bury the guy’s uncle in only a few hours.

“Hey,” Wade greeted the two of them, his lips pressed together in a thin line he hoped resembled somewhat of a smile. He sure had the effect to show just how uncomfortable he was, judging by the sympathetic look both Peter and May gave him, as though _he_ was the one who really needed it right now.

They were good like that the Parkers, he had learned very quickly. Just from the kind of person he was, by just how good of a man he was, it had been easy to figure out Peter had had pretty good people to look up too. _Goddammit, Ben…_

May offered him a soft smile before she brought him into a hug. Wade had to slightly bend his knees in order to hug her back. He caught a good huff of her flower-scented perfume before she let go and started flattening the front of his suit like a mother would do to her tousled child.

“I’m glad you could be there, Wade,” she then said, looking up directly in his eyes. Hers were glistening with tears that she seemed to constantly be holding back. “He would be happy to see you here. He liked you a lot,” she added.

What could he possibly answer to that? But then again, even if he would have found what to say, it wouldn’t have been able to come out of his mouth for the enormous ball that had formed inside of his throat. Moreover, his mouth seemed to have completely dried up. Peter was looking at them, but more specifically at him, as he tried swallowing the last bit of saliva that he had before he simply let out a quiet “thank you” to the kind woman.

Some cars were pulling over onto the parking next to them. May was soon distracted elsewhere, greeting who appeared to be some of hers and Ben’s relatives. She was kissing a young girl’s cheeks whom Wade assumed to be one of Peter’s distant cousins when the front door to the funeral home opened and two well-dressed, awfully kind-looking people came out to address her. People, all dressed in black, were soon enough following each other inside the place, while Wade stayed wordlessly beside Peter, watching them walking up the stairs to the service that was supposed to begin. He doubted Peter knew every last one of them. The young man had leaned his back heavily again the small car with his arms firmly crossed on his chest, looking as though he wanted to melt into it and disappear out of view. However, he was still receiving some friendly salutations and words of condolences from a couple of family members, his forced smile looking more and more like a frozen grimace after each one as Wade looked upon, awkwardly standing to the side.

After a little while, only a few people were left around the front of the small building, and Peter still hadn’t uttered a single word to him. There was no coldness, though, as if he knew he didn’t have or need to say anything to him.

“We should probably go inside, soon,” Wade suggested after a few more minutes, his hand extending in front of him for Peter to take.

“I guess so,” Peter replied, reluctantly, grabbing his hand and leaning away from the car’s door, anyway.

They had barely gone up one step of the white concrete staircase before a woman’s voice calling Peter’s name made them both halted and turned to the source of it. Peter didn’t appear surprised in the sightless to see a blonde girl and a scrawny looking guy promptly walking up to him. Wade immediately recognized Gwen, but could only vaguely remember seeing a picture of the guy beside her hanging among the many other ones on his bedroom’s walls of him and Peter at a much younger age. He assumed it was that Harry he had mentioned here and there. He was wearing an incredibly nice-looking suit that put both Wade’s and Peter’s to shame. He had the label ‘rich kid’ writing all over him.

In turn, the two teenagers both took Peter in an excruciatingly long embrace that very nearly left Wade feeling uncomfortable and wondering what he was even doing here among all of those people in Peter’s life. Still, it faded away quickly enough, with his shame for even having those feelings in the first place, when he saw Peter’s face over his friend’s shoulder. His eyes were closed, his eyebrows slightly frowned and his bottom lips stuck behind his upper one, like when he was trying not to cry. He looked like he needed the comfort of his friends. They weren’t saying much. Just gentle words of reassurance.

But then, Gwen and Harry both turned to Wade to acknowledge him. “Hi, Wade,” the girl said, while the other nodded at him with a friendly smile.

It surprised Wade so much that, instead of answering or waving at them like a normal person would do, he simply looked down at them with question marks all over his face like a dumbass. They had already turned their attention away from him when he finally snapped out of it. From everything Peter had told him, he had expected the two of them to ignore him completely or to simply look at him sideways, even. Needless to say, he would have been a lot less taken aback by that, seeing as he was the older mercenary who was going out with their best friend and all. He wouldn’t even put it against the two if one of them just decided to punch him in the face right then and there.

_That’s pretty much what you deserve, dude. Twice_ , he told himself. But then another thought came to his mind. One that had been floating around every time he was starting to feel too guilty about the whole situation. A single phrase that repeated itself like a grisly mantra in his head since Peter had ended up relating to him, in all of its horrible details, the way he had discovered his uncle laying in in a pool of his own blood on the street and had held his body as he died: _You’re not the one who killed Ben Parker._ He might be a killer, but he would never voluntarily kill an innocent. Especially not an old man, in cold blood at that. So why did he feel so guilty? It wasn’t his fault. Nor Peter’s. He knew whose fault it was. That was his job, wasn’t it? Putting scumbags like those to rest? It felt way too personal, this time, though.

If that old man hadn’t been linked to Peter, the boy he was pretty sure that he was in love with at this point, would he had even cared all that much, well more than a paycheck could give him? He could only admit the real answer to himself: _No… not at all._

Peter and his two friends had started making their progression up to the building, pulling Wade with a jolt out of his train of thoughts. He followed them at a distance. The trio had reached the top of the stairs before him and, for a split second, Wade thought they were about to leave inside without him. Harry was holding up the front door for them all, waiting for them to step inside. Yet, Peter appeared to be waiting for him, his back to the opened door as his eyes followed him on the stairs. Wade jogged the last few steps separating them, before taking back the young man’s hand in his and squeezing it affectionately as they walked inside the dull edifice.

There was a very simple brown urn at the front of the room. Right beside is was the two nice bouquets of blue and white flowers Wade had offered to pay for, and ultimately did despite May’s constant rebuttals, where was a large frame had been placed. A nice picture of Ben was inside of it, looking a bit younger than he had looked the last time Wade had seen him. There were fewer wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead, but there was still that same good-hearted smile on his face that Wade had been on the receiving end a couple of times. He wished he could have gotten to know the man better. If he had known he would have so few time…

He had accepted him into them without question. Had treated him with the respect he hadn’t imagined he would get from his younger boyfriend’s father figure. But before everything else, the man was a hero. A reckless and stupid one at that. What kind of person would try to stop an armed man from stealing, risking getting shot for it? _Peter,_ he believed with confidence, even though the young man didn’t think that of himself right now. The last conversation between the two had kind of been about that, hadn’t it?

Peter didn’t come near the urn once, not even when May had proposed it to him. His eyes were looking everywhere else other than at the small piece of shiny wood that contained the last few bits of his uncle. For his part, Wade couldn’t stop looking over as he followed Peter around the very small room. He didn’t speak to many people there too, but as Wade was coming out of the bathroom, he saw him briefly speaking with Dr. Connors, the man’s only hand giving the 18 years old’s shoulder sympathetic pats. The fact that the scientific was there took the Merc by surprise a little. _He’s probably wondering when his only hope for any scientific results will come back to complete perfect experiments for him._

It was reaching noon when they had all walked to the cemetery behind the funeral home. Frosty leaves were cracking underneath their feet as the half-naked trees were waving their branches above their heads. The weather was even chillier than before, the sky entirely covered in grey clouds merging together. The breeze was soft, yet unpleasantly cold. A good number of people were shivering and holding their jacket and scarf tighter around themselves.

The Wake had been far from the hardest part. Seeing May Parker breaking down later on in front of her husband’s grave as they were descending his ashes into the ground would have the power to bring the toughest of man to tears. She was clutching her nephew’s arm, her other hand clasped on her mouth as her eyes refused to open. While her sobs were quiet, Wade could feel them resonating against his bones. He stood beside Peter, his hands joined together in front of him, his knuckles turning white with the force with which he was holding them. Wade could hear a lot of sniffles coming from behind him, but none from the young man to his left. When he turned his head at Peter, he was surprised to see his hard, blank stare on the hole in the ground in front of them. His hand was covering the one his aunt had on his arm. He simply looked completely drained and kind of resolute, almost. He had probably exhausted all of his tears back at Wade’s apartment.

He wanted to ask him how he could make it better for him. He wanted to talk to him, to ask him what he was thinking about, but that day had just been so bizarre. It felt impossible and kind of surreal to try having somewhat a normal conversation in all of this.

The burial was over and most people had already left before sending their last words of condolence to May and Peter. Some of them were supposed to join them at the Parkers’ house in a bit. The woman had stopped her sobbing, but there were still silent tears rolling down her cheeks while she was covering her nose with a tissue. Wade felt like he should be doing something for May, therefore taking off the jacket of his suit as he walked behind her and laid it over her shoulders. It covered the totality of her back down to the back of her thighs. _At least she won’t be cold._

She thanked him shakily as Wade caught a glimpse of Peter’s face. He was giving him this thankful look, genuinely smiling for the first time Wade had seen him all day. It wasn’t the open-mouth smile he was used to seeing, but that one still had a way to get to him like a hot compress inside of his cold chest as he tried returning it to him.

He sat with Peter on the couch of their living room for hours on end, bringing and practically feeding him some of the snacks out of the trays May had prepared in advance for the day. The morose atmosphere had followed them from the cemetery and was hanging over the small living room. May stayed sat at the kitchen table, talking with her sister throughout the whole afternoon, Wade’s jacket hanging at the back of her chair. Peter had settled down on the couch, his legs resting on top of Wade’s thighs. His jacket was crushed between the arm of the couch and his head. The older man’s hand had been holding Peter’s legs closer to himself, his thumb brushing over like small caresses the part just below his knee.

It was getting dark outside when Wade finally decided it was time for him to leave. Not that he really wanted to. There was just that smaller part of him, the louder and much uncontrollable part of him, that kept trying to force his limbs to _do something_. Anything that would stop the itch at the back of his brain. Somebody needed to take the blame for this and he knew where to start. He had had time to think about it. It had been ruminating in his head for the past three days like that disgusting stew his mother used to make. Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly but, how could he? He didn’t know how to fix the situation. If he couldn’t bring Ben Parker back from the dead, he certainly could take care of the people responsible for it, right? That was the only thing in his life he knew how to do, and fairly well at that.

First, there was that Thompson kid. He had started all of this shit. He was always starting shit. If it wasn’t for him, there wouldn’t even have been any reason for Ben to ask Peter to pick up his aunt after her shift and the two of them wouldn’t have fought the way they did. Wade wanted to finish off what Peter had started. He wanted to choke the guy to death and watch his face turned blue, and those sentiments were there even before the guy had gotten a beat down in front of everyone. He might haven’t pulled the trigger later on that same day, but the mercenary couldn’t chase that idea out of his head; that clearing Flash Thompson out of Peter’s life would somewhat fix a lot of the boy’s problem, the killer being the rest of them.

He looked over at the boy beside him. His eyes had closed during the time Wade’s mind had started wondering. Some strands of brown hair had fallen on his forehead, one brushing his closed eyelid. He would have almost looked peaceful if it wasn’t from everything Wade knew.

“I have to leave soon,” he told him, reluctantly, avoiding the teenager’s reaction by focusing his stare, as well as two of his fingers, on the tiny creases of his pants.

Peter’s voice was hoarse when gave him a brief reply a few seconds later, “okay.” His arm shifted under his head before he sat up, sliding his legs away from Wade.

He hadn’t expected Peter to get up from the couch right away, as he had secretly hoped for him to contest it and force him to stay. _He would if he knew where you were going._

“Maybe I should stay?” Wade asked out loud, more to himself than to the boy closing the glassed door behind them. It was fine now after Peter had shattered it in thousand pieces in anger. Again, the Merc had paid for it in spite of May’s many protests. He simply couldn’t stand seeing a piece of cardboard taped in place of the glass as their only protection to the outside world any longer than it should.

“No, it’s fine.”

Should he really be leaving him alone? After today?

“I have to get this one thing done. I’ll come back later, though,” he assured.

The lightbulb above their heads was creating a harsh yellow light. Peter was looking down at his shoes scraping on the prickly welcomed mat placed right in front of the door. Wade had wondered many times if there really was a key hidden under it.

“It’s fine, Wade,” Peter repeated, looking up at him to give him a warm little smile, his cheeks doing that thing where it would create dimples and make him look as if there was something inside of his mouth.

Their eyes locked for a few quiet seconds where neither of them knew what they were supposed to say before Wade ended up whispering almost hurriedly, “c’mere…”

He brought the smaller man closer to him, flushing their body together, so much so that Peter’s shoe was slightly stepping on his and crushing his big toe. Right away, Peter’s right arm locked around his neck while the other one closed on his shoulder blade. Wade had his palms spread over his back, feeling the muscles underneath his fingers untightening every so slightly as Peter’s entire body seemed to relax and melt against his. His hot breath was softly hitting Wade’s skin as he was nuzzled his face in the junction between his shoulder and his neck, his nose in his collar. After maybe a few seconds or a few minutes, he truly didn’t know, he reached into Peter’s hair and ran his fingers through it before letting go of him completely.

Both of their neat shirts were full of crinkles now, the boy’s ties now as crooked as Wade’s was. Yet it did nothing to worsen Peter’s appearance if such a thing was even possible.

“You’re so beautiful,” Wade stated to him in such a tone that probably suggested just how long he had waited to say that.

Peter didn’t waste a second to retort, his voice a lot higher and more dreamy sounding than usual, “it’s only because I’m so in love.”

Wade tried to hide the red flush that had stupidly risen to his cheeks by letting out a strangled chuckle before saying, a finger lightly poking at Peter’s chin, “Padmé will have to shave soon.”

Peter’s laugh was like music to his ears. He had kind of expected to never hear that sound again, but there it was and now he never wanted to leave just to have the opportunity to trigger it over and over again. In spite of this, he placed a short kiss on Peter’s lips before heading out from underneath the lit doorstep.

“No,” he exclaimed as he reached the street, facing Peter whose hand had halted its movement on the doorknob. Wade walked backward a few steps under the man’s curious eyes, his arms extending in the broadest way possible as he loudly resumed, “it’s because I’m so in love with you!”

The young man’s laugh came out even louder than before and followed Wade as he walked away, facing the right way this time, until all he could hear was the sound of cars in the distance.

 

* * * *

 

There was not a single car parked in front of the Thompson’s house, nor there were any signs of anyone being in it right now. _This is gonna be fun_ , he thought, excitedly, rubbing his hands together more for the theatricality of it rather than for the fact that he was fucking freezing.

He had expected a much nicer house, to be quite honest. It wasn’t much bigger than the Parkers’, but it was still fairly clean when he stepped inside the living room. He picked up one of the woman magazines off the coffee table and walked through the empty house. His eyes stopping with unexpected glee on the espresso machine in the kitchen.

He sipped from his mug as he made his way upstairs, leaving behind the mess he had made all over the kitchen tiles after his difficult time trying to make a drinkable espresso. _It’s not a mess if nobody can see it._ It took a few tries to find the right bedroom. He felt like a dad checking on his kids, except there was nobody there and his mug wasn’t filled with any alcohol. But once he found what he was looking for, and not another bathroom or kid’s room, it was like stepping into Toxic Masculinity’s lair.

He hadn’t turned on any light, but it was difficult to miss the football jersey that made opening Flash’s door a tad bit more difficult than the other ones. The white walls were covered with posters of hot football players and hot chicks, while the only shelf was jam-packed with various sports trophies. Wade took one in his hands, leaving his half-empty mug in its place. A date from five years ago with the name ‘Eugene Thompson’ was engraved on it. Wade chuckled to himself as he read the name and walked over to the teenager’s unmade bed, ultimately backing away at the sight of the used tissues on his bedside table. He instead casually walked over to the closet, evaluating its size before he decided to step inside, pushing down all of the clothes off their hangers so it would create a carpet of clothes at the bottom over the row of shoes there.

_Been a while_ , he thought as he settled down more comfortably in the small closet. He sat on the pile that he had created and closed the sliding door, his back to the wall as the shiny trophy lay beside him.

Wade had been playing a game on his phone for quite a while before someone finally came inside the house. From the sound of it, it was only one. It took some more minutes before Flash finally came through his door, not realizing the missing trophy or the lack of football jersey in front of his door that Wade had come out a little while ago to put on over his white shirt for more dramatic effects. _The ghost of his past kind of shit._

He could see the room through the cracks of the closet’s door much clearer, now that Flash had turned on the light. The guy had a disgusting purple turning green bruise covering his cheek that very nearly caused Wade to blow his cover from the sheer force it took not to shout out a loud satisfying “AH!” right then and there. He waited until Flash laid down on his bed, which didn’t take very long since it was the exact thing the guy did after entering his room, before revealing himself. The burly teen was laying on his back with a bored expression on his face as he was scrolling through his cracked phone.

“Hello Eugene,” Wade said as menacingly as he could, yet the effect was somewhat ruined by him guffawing his way out of the closet right after. He was glad when the teenager ended up sliding off his bed in absolute terror anyway, which only renewed the Merc’s hilarity even further.

 

* * * *

 

There was still the same old patio chair right under where Peter’s window was situated when he walked up to the side of the house. Ben had placed it there one day as a joke after one night where he had caught sight of one of Wade’s most difficult attempt at climbing up as he was taking out the trash.

Peter was sound asleep when he stepped inside the window, his weak snores putting a content smile on Wade’s face. It made him realized just how tired he was, given that he had almost fallen asleep on Flash’s clothes during his relatively long wait in the dark. A pile of clothes that was very comfortable and only slightly stunk, he might add. He kicked his shoes in the general direction of the desk before sneaking his way toward the bed.

Peter only stirred a little in his sleep as Wade climbed over him, standing up on the bed, before letting his body fall in the place between the boy’s shape under the covers and the wall.

“Gimme some of that,” he whispered as he pulled at the corner of the blanket he was left with, only receiving a vague drowsy groan from Peter.


	21. Great Bullshit pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is working on something...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to cut this one in half, you’ll see why next!

_… tattoo of a black star on his left wrist…_

“Ah! Mother-”

The small device made a rapid worrying high-pitched noise, accompanied with a not-so-wanted blue flash of electricity, before shooting thin filaments of synthetic webs all over the table and the wall, as well as Peter’s face and neck. The good news was that the substance wasn’t too easy to rip off his skin like he wanted the result to be. However, the bad news was that it took a little bit more than he would have wanted to clean the mess that failed attempt had made.

As he was making somewhat of unsuccessful effort tearing off the fiber covering his neck and chin, the door leading to the short set of stairs to the basement opened itself out of his view. A concerned woman’s voice came right after.

“Peter? Is everything alright, in here?”

“It’s fine, Aunt May!” he shouted back hurriedly, ready to jump out of his chair to the nearest blanket they kept in some of the boxes behind him to cover the tech from the woman’s eyes.

“Alright.” There was a pause where Peter expected his aunt to close the door without another word, but then her voice resounded in the basement again. “Will you join me for dinner? I made pasta, it should be ready soon.”

“Of course, yeah. Just… gimme a few minutes!”

Upon hearing the door closing for good, Peter let out a very long sigh and slouched on his chair, relaxing a bit. She thought he was working on a particularly hard science homework, never really questioning or raising her eyebrows on his daily and hours-long disappearances to their house’s basement over the last two weeks. It seemed to be working for the both of them as Ben’s absence was very much sensed in the household but never mentioned by the both of them. He groaned uncomfortably as he got the sticky solution to break itself free from the sensitive part of his skin on the side of his face, almost taking a piece of his sideburn with it.

While he really couldn’t say that about his real homework, the object of his secretive labor was quickly coming to fruition. Since the funeral, his mind had started running like crazy, something he was very much glad for. He couldn’t bear staying in that hazy state for much longer where all he could pretty much do was re-enacting his uncle’s last moment in his head over and over again until all he wanted to do was gauge the image out with one of Wade’s outlandish knife. Sometimes he would imagine himself jumping in front of his uncle before the mysterious man could pull the trigger. In some of those scenarios, Peter punched the gun out of his hand and watch proudly as the police arrest him, while in other ones, he grabbed it and shoot the man in the middle of his chest. And in fewer ones, he wasn’t fast enough and was the one receiving the bullet.

Not thinking about it was quite difficult of a task, given the countless looks and whispers he was being given at school as constant reminders of just different things were now. He couldn’t pretend it was for his uncle’s death alone, though, as the fight with Flash was, like the nasty bruise on the teenager’s face, still quite fresh in everyone’s mind. His injury appeared to still be reasonably significant even a whole week after, swollen, as if it didn’t want to leave his skin and looked maybe even worse than Peter remembered it. The guy was avoiding him completely now, barely glancing in his direction anymore and, if Peter weren’t mistaken, turning a corner every single time he would see him in the school’s hallways. Not that he was complaining, but he wouldn’t have put it past Flash to dig at him when he was currently at the lowest he could ever be. His months worth of detention following the fight had been revoked following the news of his ‘family drama’, as the principal had mentioned to him, while still appreciated, in the most awkward attempt at giving him condolences Peter had seen yet. His teachers had started giving him somewhat of a special treatment all of a sudden as well, giving him slack on his homework and letting him drift off during class or work on his own project in peace. Those were probably the biggest reasons why he had been able to make so much progress on his latest invention.

He felt terrible about letting Wade blubbering on about those detentions without telling him about their cancellation, but he doubted the man would be too delighted to hear about what he had been doing with that free time instead, especially after what had happened to him only two nights ago. Peter’s knees were still sporting the slight aftereffects of falling through a roof to the hard floor of an abandoned boxing ring after a terrible encounter with some thugs. He had underestimated just how many friends a criminal could have and just how many would show up when a reckless teenager like him start to threaten one of them. Yet, none of them had ended up being his guy.

He couldn’t really imagine how that conversation with Wade would go. _Or maybe he would just feel excluded from the action_ , Peter supposed, distracted on the complicated device in front of him and very nearly getting his fingers electrocuted again. Maybe he wasn’t giving Wade enough credit. _He could me help find him…_ But like every time that thought occurred to him, the same answer came right after it: _don’t involve him… he probably got other things to do._ The guy had a life after all. Peter had expected the Merc to ask him something about the man. Hell, he hadn’t mentioned anything about it, even trying to change the subject the only few times Peter had tried to talk to him about the criminal, about the face that had been haunting his nightmares and dreams for days on end by now. Was Wade only trying to make him feel better by not bringing up anything about it? But how could Peter not bring up the man he had let walk free, taking his uncle’s life in the process?

May would have a fret if she realized what he was doing, Peter knew that. But while he also knew for a fact Wade wasn’t against the practice of hunting someone down, the very thing the Merc did for a living, he couldn’t see him being too happy about him taking on that mission at all. _He would say it’s stupid and try to do it himself… risking getting himself killed._ He wouldn’t have that. He had something that criminal, and Wade, didn’t. It was about time he started taking on the responsibilities, _or the bullshit_ , he could hear Wade say, that came with it.

Peter didn’t want to kill him. Sometimes he wanted to, longed to as he assembled the few of the intricate pieces of tech he had borrowed from Oscorp, imagining a way he could make killing webs shot out of his emptied watch instead. To prevent him from taking the life of anyone else by making him rot under the ground instead of the much too comfy cell he would picture in his mind. But during those moments, Peter would also very quickly remember the last conversation he had with his uncle just before he had stormed out of the room, how could he forget, and the last few sentences he had angrily tried to make him understand. He was accountable for his actions and surely Peter avenging his death by murdering the criminal who was responsible for it just wasn’t it. It was the other reason why he didn’t want to get Wade involved in his plan. He knew the Merc could take things a bit too far. That, if it would come to it, Wade would kill the man without any hesitation, and that there was also that slim chance that he would let him. What would he do finally being face to face with the man again? He could pretend like he had planned everything, but at the end of the day, he genuinely didn’t know.

Peter had thought about wearing a mask during the nights he would listen to the police scanner from the city, since that first false alert with the guy that had ended up with him running away from half a dozen of other guys. He had even gone as far as purchasing one of those weird looking ones made from very cheap and thin fabric that was left in an emptied-out Halloween alley at the grocery shop. It was red and didn’t have any holes for his eyes or mouth. He had had no opportunity to wear it out yet since there had not been another sighting of another dodgy blonde guy with long hair in the area since that first instance two nights ago.

Even though it was already dark outside the window of the living room, Peter’s eyes had to adjust a little bit once he stepped out of the basement. He had been hunched over his device since the early hours of the morning and had long gone over the provisions he had brought with him to the basement. May had shown her head through the door a few times throughout the day, checking if he was still alive, but, luckily for him, never went down the stairs. She was never into this whole science stuff, always encouraging him without being too curious about the details of it. Not like his uncle, who always used to snoop around, asking him a ton of questions that Peter was too engrossed to give the man long answers to. The young man was especially reminded of that once sat at the kitchen table with his aunt asking him about school, the both of them at their usual seat while the one to their left stayed awfully vacant. It was almost alienating not being able to hear his uncle’s mindless humming. His quiet mumbling as he searched for his glasses that he would leave everywhere around the house. His loud, enthusiastic compliments on May’s cooking whatever she would put a plate in front of him…

Peter quickly came back to his den after a much-appreciated warm meal. His aunt was still not used to make less food than usual, and they were always left with a ton of leftovers inside the fridge that she would offer over to Wade whenever he would show himself inside the house. A policewoman was mentioning something about a minor car accident at an intersection when he first turned on the police scanner around 8 pm. Another one was reporting on a non-violent altercation at a Chinese restaurant when, leaning his face away with an apprehensive expression, kind of expecting it to explode in his face again, Peter activated the small device. While it didn’t do that, the thread of the synthetic web that came of it still came out a bit spread out once it attached itself to the nearest object, the filaments much thicker than before, but still. It flew out straight to the Christmas ornament hanging on the wall far back in the room, covering it completely. It was a better result than the numerous one that had come before it, but still not exactly what he wanted. The formula was perfect, though, which made him feel kind of giddy for the first time since he had started putting it together. And it was no longer sending a small yet unpleasant surge of electricity once activated, which he took as a pretty good sign.

It had been a few hours since Peter had come back to the basement and there had been no mentions by the police that could fit the description of the guy he was looking for. He was getting sick of the subtle hum of the neon and its harsh white light that was emitting above his head. He closed the small watch-like device and held it into his hands. It was quite lightweight for the amount of stuff that was put in there. _Almost perfect_ , he thought, securing it around his wrist. He couldn’t help grinning at as he examined it on his arm, turning it over so he could look at it in every angle. _I have to see if it really works before doing anything else to it._ How could he know if it really worked if all he did was shooting it in that tiny space in his house? He didn’t hesitate too long before picking up the red mask he had hidden under one of the old blankets full of holes in the box behind him. He slipped it in the back pocket of his jeans before running up the stairs, one earplug still very much in place as a dull man’s voice was giving up information on a possible drug deal being orchestrated at a public park.

His aunt was nowhere to be seen in the pitch-black living room, yet, there was light coming from the top of the stairs leading to his and May’s bedrooms. The clock above the couch was reaching almost eleven, which kind of surprised the 18 years old. He picked his jacket up from the hanger and put it on as quietly as he could, keeping a constant eye on the top of the stairs. It was only when his hand touched the doorknob that his aunt’s silhouette appeared there out of nowhere, as though her motherly instinct activated an alarm in her brain the second he made contact with it. He could never get past that woman even if he tried.

“What are you doing?” May asked as she went down a single step down the small set of stairs facing the front door, her hand settling on the weak ramp. She was in her pajamas, and it looked like he had caught her seconds before she was going to bed.

“Just, uh, you know, going to meet up with Wade,” he lied, scratching the back of his head. It was a Saturday night, right? So, that was a pretty normal response, right?

“Oh? Well, tell him I said hi,” May then replied to him, sounding genuine.

Peter briefly thought back with a little smile at the couple of times in the last two weeks, since the funeral, Wade had paid them little visits without him even knowing about it beforehand. Dinners, when the man was joining them, were always the best ones. It had a way of making the two Parkers ignore Ben’s absence around the kitchen table even just for a little while. Peter remembered just how hard it had been to hold back his laughter that one time where he had walked after school on his aunt and his boyfriend sitting on the couch of the living room, conversing over a cup of coffee like the two middle age women that they were.

“Good night, love you!” he called out to her before walking out of the house, the watch-sized device secured under his jacket’s sleeve.

_“No backup needed… 10-53 at… False alarm on that code red near… stolen vehicle… 10-10 in progress, I’m gonna need backup…”_

The city was bright and giving out this low hum from where he stood. Rows of cars roamed the streets while pedestrians like minuscule black dots were moving under the bight street lights. Peter stood on the rooftop of a tall building. It had taken him more time than usual to climb it, as it was doubtlessly the tallest one he had tried to tackle so far. He had preferred its smooth glassed surface under his fingers over the brick walls he was getting so used to climb by now. His breath was coming out in a white fog in front of him as he welcomed the cold air on his face and in his hair. The young man had come to like hanging outside in the city at night, even though he didn’t have a lot of occasions. It was especially pleasant after spending the entirety of his day in the confinement of a quite moist and poorly lit basement.

The young man leaned his head closer to the edge of the roof as the voice inside of his left ear informed him of another minor car accident in the area, the fourth that night. The pavement far below was only a distant entity while the cars going by appeared like very tiny moving colored squares. He took a few steps closer to the edge until the tip of shoes were no longer touching the ground. He wasn’t quite unbalanced by it, in fact not at all, and tested it out further by raising one foot, letting it dangled into the air as though he was about to step on an invisible wire in front of him. If someone could see him, they would probably think he was about to commit suicide. If he were to fall, it would be to his death. An excruciating one at that.

“Let’s not do that…” Peter muttered to himself as he started meddling with the strap around his wrist, both feet back on the concrete.

The police scanner tuned out like a distant flow of thoughts at the back of his mind, he was trying to determine the distance between the building he was standing on and the other currently facing it. It was a huge one, but feasible… if he knew how to do it. He couldn’t help doubting himself. What was he supposed to do once he had a grip on the other building? Was his web going to reach it in the first place? And was it really sturdy enough to support his weight? He had never tried jumping that high, let alone from a building that had more than a few dozen floors. What if it went completely wrong and his aunt was forced to learn about his foolish death on the news tomorrow?

Despite that nervosity being settled deep inside of his stomach, it was a tad subsided by the slight anticipation he could also feel in there and was most likely the reason why he hadn’t already run back to his warm bed waiting for him at home. Widening his legs, his eyes locked on the reflecting surface of the building a good number of meters away, Peter took a huge intake of breath. Two fingers were hovering over his wrist, but before he could move them, another voice coming from his earbud forced his entire body to freeze in place and stop to actually listen.

_“… suspect was described as a white, middle-aged man. About six feet tall, shoulder-length blonde hair…”_

The 18 years old put on the mask he had forgotten in a hurry. He thought he would have had some more times to experiment and test around his gadget before being forced to jump into action. _Guess it’s now or never._

The very tough and elastic fiber looking a bit like nylon went flying until, like it had done earlier to the Christmas ornament in Peter’s house, it attached itself to the nearest surface in its trajectory. Peter escaped an exclamation of surprise as he got propelled further toward the edge until all that was keeping him on the roof were the tip of his feet. On his tiptoe and both hands on the flexible web, he braved himself briefly before concentrating all of his force into pushing on the concrete underneath him. It was so effective that his body nearly ended up crashing hard against the other building before, just in time, he thought of swinging right.

That victory was cut very short, however, as he was close to charge right onto another edifice before he could even realize it. Peter’s left side ended up sliding on a large window, which he was glad for the closed curtains. He didn’t really know what to do with his legs as they dangled in the air, his screams of exhilaration muffled by his mask.


	22. Great Bullshit pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some closure and misunderstanding.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost lost my mind 3 times writing this

It took a few minutes of mindless swinging far above the busy streets before Peter got some stability and could settle into a vague rhythm without almost missing to shoot out another web. With only one of those to work with, it took a lot of effort. He was getting out of breath as the wind hit his mask and clothes with force. His up and down motions in the air almost felt like he was in one of those rollercoasters he had never liked, only now, he was all but brought to laughter at the euphoric feeling it procured. It took a lot of his concentration to start reading the names of the streets and a few more seconds before Peter could start recognizing them. He very nearly let go of his web altogether when, after a few rather clumsy turns left, his eyes landed on the one he was looking for. The man must not have gone too far, he assumed as he felt a painful squeezing inside of his chest.

The teenager got a few more swings before he had to stop on top of one of the much shorter apartment buildings in that area. He had passed a police car on his way there, but it was empty of any guilty passengers he could be looking for. It was easy to tune out the sounds of cars driving by in the far distance and concentrate on the seemingly quiet neighborhood, which kind of had a mild scent of cat piss lingering in the air if he focused enough on it. It didn't take him very long to decipher the fastest set of steps out of the very few ones on the pavement outside. It was his best guess at the moment. He had to cross, with the help of his wrist-device, a few rooftops before he landed close enough to its source. The steps had stopped altogether and were replaced by a harsh, fast breath once Peter looked down, on all fours, from the edge of the roof. A dark figure was leaning his back heavily on a closed dumpster. It was bent over as it appeared to catch his breath without much success. Peter could see the outline of a gun between the man's fingers as it was laying on its side, resting on his left thigh. The man's long hair was falling over his face, hiding his feature from Peter. He could feel the hair at the back of his neck and arms raising at once strangely. He decided to take his chance anyway.

However, as he was about to jump down, another silhouette walked out of nowhere into the alley. Was it an accomplice? Peter didn't get the chance to ponder too much on the question, though, as the newcomer had quickly pulled out his own gun out his jacket and was pointing it directly at the long-haired man before that one had even had the chance to raise his head at him. He was startled and dropped his gun on the dark ground as the stranger made a sarcastic comment about his haircut. _What's going on?_

It was only when Peter heard the newcomer's voice that he abruptly decided to jump down without another thought. It was out of startle more than anything, and it showed as he fell right on top of the dumpster, his feet slipping underneath him. His ass ended up taking most of the shock, the sound of his body hitting the metal box resonating vociferously in the small space before he ultimately slid down to the hard ground, mortified. The two men's heads turned to him in unison.

“What is it, did you guys plan a baddies meetup or something?” the armed man inquired, sounding very annoyed at Peter's sudden appearance in the alley with them.

His familiar face appeared much clearer to Peter's eyes now, not that he needed it, anyway. He was looking right at him, his attention away from the blonde man and his gun aiming directly at Peter's masked face.

“Wade?” Peter's unconscious joy upon seeing the man was cut very short as his hands instinctively raised in front of him in defense as he screeched out, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched, “Wade, what are you doing?”

“What the fuck?” Wade's head tilted slightly to the side as he inspected the young man from head to toe with squinting eyes. He must have judged his real identity somehow since he ended up quickly lowering his pistol from his face. His tone was suddenly profoundly perplexed rather than irritated when he nothing but shrieked back at him, “Peter? What the fuck, you son of a bitch, I could've shot you!”

There was a short period of silence in the small alley where all they did was eying each other in complete and utter confusion and astonishment, at least for Peter's part, until Wade blurted out, sounding genuinely concerned about his own mental state, “are you my conscience?”

“What? No, I-… what are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here? Why are you wearing that thing?”

Peter could feel his face warming up under his mask.

“It's- no! Answer me!”

Wade was still holding his gun alongside his body, his first target forgotten. He was wearing his red jacket, the one Peter knew for a fact could be considered an arsenal in its own right more often than not, its fuzzy collar looking much browner than its original beige color now. It had been a long time since he had seen that side of Wade. He would never get used to the man's unusual occupations, although he tried very hard to ignore them. Seeing him threatening someone with his gun had been quite the jump in time. It brought Peter back to that first meeting and the fear he remembered having over that handsome stranger waving his weapons around. He hadn't killed, then, but, although Wade had his firearm lowered, Peter was a lot more nervous about him using it now than maybe he had been that time those few months ago.

“The same thing as y-”

Suddenly, there was a black shadow quickly going past them to their right, which caught both Peter and Wade entirely off guard. Both heads turned to where the other man in the alley with them was supposed to be. His gun was no longer laying on the ground at his feet as it was visibly back in his hand as he was sprinting away from them. He stumbled a little bit, giving just enough time for the duo to react. Wade had waited no time to raise his gun again and point it right at the moving guy's back, and definitely would have pulled the trigger if it wasn't from Peter's web being directed right at his hand. The Merc was pushed against the brick wall of the building behind him with the force of it, his fingers, as well as his gun, now thoroughly stuck to the hard surface. They were completely covered with the white fiber under Wade's eyes which looked as though they were about to pop out of his head.

“WHAT THE FUCK, YOU CAN'T DO THAT! SINCE WHEN YOU CAN DO THAT?”

“Sorry! I'm so sorry!” Peter repeated a few times at Wade as he hurried away directing his next web at the running man, tugging at it to prevent him from getting too far away. The man fell on his back, hard, causing his gun out to slip out of his hand again and the wind to be visibly knocked out of his lungs. Peter walked over to him as his breathing became much shakier than it was. That was him. There were no doubts about it. Not even the mask giving his vision a reddish hint could impede it. He bent over to check his wrist, anyway, and, sure enough, the tattoo was there, plain as day.

Ignoring Wade's noisy and quite brash words of complaint, Peter brought the guy back on his feet, grabbing him with one single hand by the collar of his greenish, filthy coat. He shoved him against the hard wall opposite the one Wade was stuck to, holding him up until his feet were no longer touching the ground. Peter watched the guy's face as he squirmed underneath his hand.

“You love killing old men?” the young man spit out right at the killer's face. There was no tremor in his voice, which he was grateful for, only determination and a tad bit of anger that was menacing to explode like boiling water out of a casserole filled to the brim.

“What?”

Peter could feel the man's fingers shaking faintly over his hand as he was trying to pull it off him, but it wouldn't budge. Staring at his face only brought Peter repulse and a nauseous feeling he couldn't shake off. Yet, he couldn't possibly look away. His greasy hair was framing his head on the bricks behind him, not unlike cooked pasta on a kitchen wall. His breath had a strong smell of cigarettes and his clothes of that cheap detergent you could find in those public laundry rooms. He looked nothing like the assured, cool looking guy Peter had first encountered at the store. Now, he looked more like a powerless fly, caught between his fingers, squirming to break free.

“Why did you do it?” Peter added his other hand on the guy's collar and pushed him even harder on the bricks behind him, causing the back of his head to get one good blow. It was not enough to give him something more than a headache the next day, just enough to shake him up. “Tell me!”

Wade had ceased shooting words of protestation to God knew who to instead focus on them. “Pete…” the young man could hear him calling to him, but Peter stubbornly ignored it, his attention entirely focused on the man he finally had at his reach, _at his mercy_. Peter had thought about that moment a lot. In truth, there hadn't been a single day since the instant he had seen and felt the last breath coming out of his uncle's chest, his hands covered in his blood, that he hadn't thought about it. But now that it was here, it didn't seem real. Like Ben’s absence had been the next few days after.

“You remember? You shot him, and you left him on the street to die!” Peter felt so incredibly nauseous that he would not be surprised if he ended up puking out all of his insides on the man right then and there. “YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID, WHY DID YOU DO IT?”

The look of recognition on the man's face only caused the unsettling in his stomach to worsen and the anger to rise. Peter had to close his eyes as not to knock all of the guy’s teeth out when he, at last, give out an answer: “I don't- I don't know why! It just happened, man!”

The man had closed his eyes shut until they were merely two crevasses in his face as if expecting, waiting, for Peter to finish him off.

It would be so easy, such a release… _Remember what he said, remember what he said, remember…_ One good strike and it would all be over…

_“No, it wouldn't,”_ he could hear his uncle say, then, as calm as ever and just as clear as if he was standing right next to his ear.

“Peter…”

It was Wade soft, concerned calling for him that brought the young man back to reality, though, and, by the same token, compelled him into action.

“PETER! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING?”

Peter had knocked the man out with one good punch to his head and threw his out-cold body over his shoulder before running out of the alley without looking back, Wade's voice already only a distant noise behind him. The weight wasn't much for Peter, and he could use his web without too much trouble. Only, his maneuvering was a bit clumsy as one arm kept holding the man in place on his left shoulder. It didn't take too long to find the nearest police station, one he had briefly spotted earlier on his flight over. Before anyone could notice him, Peter hastily stuck the man to its surface, until the only body part that was still left visible was his face, which kind of looked like he had been taken to the same giant spider's lair as Frodo in _The Return of the King_. He was quite rough with it, but he wanted to get it over with as fast as possible so he wouldn't have to look at that face or even think about it ever again.

He felt like he could breathe again. Or just enough that the air getting inside of his lungs actually felt like a relief instead of a weight being added to them. It was all the more apparent as he swung back to the alley where he had left the mercenary, his long intakes and outtakes of breaths warming up the inside of his thin mask. When he did come back not too long after, it was to Wade letting a string of swears as he was attempting to cut out the webs with his knife to free himself. The Merc was startled at Peter's reappearance behind him and very nearly dropped the blade, which he skillfully caught before it could reach the ground, anyway.

“What did you do?” Wade asked the 18 years old without missing a beat, scrutinizing him in the poor light as though he was looking for any trace of guilt or, more likely, blood on his clothes.

“I attached him to a police station and called them. He's not getting out of there.”

“Oh.”

Wade's tone was unreadable, his expression as well, but it still had a way to rub the teenager the wrong way. What did he expect, exactly? While Peter could still very much feel the effect of getting rid of the man that had been haunting him day and night for the last few weeks being lifted off his shoulders, it felt like he could now grasp just much anger and even betrayal he could feel toward Wade at that very moment.

“You thought I was going to kill him?”

“I hoped not. That’s _my_ job,” Wade replied, his eyes switching a few times between Peter and his hand still fully hidden under a mass of synthetic webs. He had only managed to cut some very few threads with the blade. “Are you just gonna stand there or you're gonna free me?”

“Screw you, Wade!” Peter snapped out of the blue, not making any moves to help him out.

Wade didn't seem that much surprised about his sudden outburst, though, only giving a little shrug as if to say _fair enough_ , and persisted, “please? I can't really feel it anymore. You know how much I like to use both of my hands.”

Peter hurried over to tear it the webs off the wall without a word, too frustrated by the man's complete lack of awareness to say anything else. Once free, the gun fell to the ground under one of Wade's squeaky shriek that sounded an awful lot like the sound a little girl would do after dropping her favorite toy. Peter took advantage of the moment when Wade was picking up it up from the ground to walk away, hoping he wouldn't follow him, but, really, what did he expect.

Indeed, Wade quickly tagged along, trying to match his steps with the younger man's much faster ones as he inquired to him with curiosity, “so, it's over, then? You just dropped him there?”

Two stray cats dashed away to the other side of the road when the two men reached the street. Wade was rubbing his hand with his other one behind Peter and had to keep a little jog going to keep up with him.

Peter retorted, not bothering to look back at the man, “alive, you mean? You wanna know where so you can finish the job?”

He had expected Wade to reply one of his witty remarks that would usually bring a little smile to his face despite his best effort, but he didn't. Wade's silence only got on his nerve even more, however, and he stopped in the middle of the street they were walking across, turning fully toward Wade, which caused the man to bump hard onto him. Peter ignored it, also disregarding the car that he could hear rolling down the road and the hiss by the two cats as they got startled by Wade's sudden muffled shout upon impact.

“Why would you do that?” Peter blurted out.

“Do what? What do you mean?”

It was then that Peter realized that his partner was maybe not as clueless about this whole situation as he had first assumed that he was. That perhaps he knew exactly the reason of Peter's coldness toward him and had only been trying to avoid touching the reasons for his presence on the scene since the start for excellent reasons. What was he thinking? Wade had been threatening the guy! What would have happened if he hadn't been there to break it off? If Peter had arrived a few minutes late, would he have found a corpse there instead? He was pretty much sure of it.

“Do you really think I'm this stupid?” he retorted sharply, positively fuming at this point.

A car had stopped in front of the two men and was honking at them to step out of the way. Being as Peter, whose neck was quickly turning red the longer he had to wait for an explanation from the Merc, was way too caught up in their personal bubble of misunderstanding to care about the car impatiently moving forward in small progressions, Wade had to grab his arm for him to move.

“Look, Pete, can we maybe talk elsewhere? It's a miracle if nobody hasn't already called the cops with all these yelling,” Wade said once they were both standing under a malfunctioning lamp post, the vehicle’s wheels loudly scrapping against the concrete as it speedily drove away. The light above their heads was flashing in such fast successions that its glitch was only perceptible to the eyes once you had been staring right at it for a few seconds.

“Okay,” Peter said calmly, almost casually, nodding. “Jump on.”

The significant change in Peter's attitude appeared to have startled Wade a bit, whose only response was a confused, “okay…?” before he added once he realized what he could mean by that, “but are you sure it's- FUCK ME!”

Peter hadn't given Wade any chance to move before shoving him on his back himself and shot up a web into the wall of the nearest edifice, his feet pushing against the streetlight as a propeller, causing its light to stabilize itself. They sprung into the air as he felt Wade's limbs going completely still around him like a vise. Since Wade wasn't so much of a lifeless body as his previous passenger had been, Peter could control much easily his next movements without having to prevent him from falling off his back. But it also meant the distraction of having the hands of a fully-grown man squeezing his shoulders painfully at full force and yelling swears into his ear without any restraint whatsoever every time he would let go of his web to shoot another one. He could tell that the Merc was looking down by the way its shoes kept digging uncomfortably into his thighs as he was trying to get any grip that he could and kept muttering stuff about his dead body ending up like an ugly crepe.

Peter ended up stopping on top of a tall building very similar and possibly very close to the first one he had jumped off from, his landing so abrupt he thought Wade would fall off his back and onto the roof’s ground.

“Fucking hell!” Wade let out, breathless, as he inelegantly slid off the teenager's back. “That was pretty cool, but never do that again!”

A part of Peter wanted to comment on the Merc's faint of heart, but he restrained himself and quietly walked a few feet away from him as he massaged his sore shoulders one at a time very briefly. He shouldn't have a lot of webs left, he pondered. He checked to see inside his wrist-device, and sure enough, there was maybe one left? Surely not enough to get back home.

“What is that exactly? And take that off, it's fucking creepy!” Wade said, pointing at his wrist and then to the red mask still covering his face.

He had outright forgotten about it. Peter reached up to pull it over his head, statics resonating loud in his ears as it traveled into his hair. He sighed at the gentle waft of fresh air that hit his warm face, his eyes watering at the sudden coldness it brought to them. He was tempted to drop the mask on the floor to never picked it up again, but he decided against it and buried it inside his jacket's pocket like he did with both of his cold hands. Wade was standing not too far away from the edge, looking down to the street and then at the young man’s exposed face for the first time that night.

“What is it with us and rooftops?” Wade then mentioned, offhandedly.

“His death was pointless, Wade, he didn’t have any reason…” Peter trailed off like it was only now registering to him.

He wanted to talk about it. To express to Wade just how much what had just happened had felt just so surreal, so liberating in a way that he had never expected it to be. Not in the way that he was suddenly over his uncle’s death, very far from that, but more in the fact that he could finally block out the circumstances of his death and concentrate on his memory alone instead. On properly grieving, finally. Peter’s eyes wouldn’t stop watering from what he had thought was from the cold breeze alone. He raised a hand to them, wiping them away before it could overflow, Wade’s eyes catching his movement. Wade approached him, but before his comforting hand could reach his arm, Peter turned away.

It took him a few seconds before Peter could face the other man again and repeat, more firmly this time, “why would you do that?”

Wade very quickly deviated his eyes from him. They avoided Peter's hard glare as a very short, anxious laugh escaped out of his mouth.

“Okay, look. I know what you're gonna say…” Wade began but was momentarily interrupted by Peter taking a step toward him with a look apparently so serious that it shut him right up.

“I told you exactly what was the last thing my uncle ever said to me, _word for word_ , and you go and do this?” Wade had the decency to look ashamed. Even though he already knew the answer, Peter asked next, “you were going to kill him?”

At that last question, Wade's expression dramatically changed, his ego, Peter guessed, taking over the remorse. “Yes!” he then replied, as though there was this thing so evident that Peter couldn't understand, which only pissed the latter off more. “You know what that shithead did!”

Peter took another step forward. He could tell the older man was struggling not to back off a bit and to meet his eyes without wavering. That last one wasn't much of a success as they seemed transfixed by Peter's right temple for some reason.

“So, you were hunting him down? Planning to kill him and never tell me about it? Like nothing ever happened, leaving me to search for a ghost?” Peter questioned him, his voice getting incredibly hoarser after each sentence.

“Well, apparently, I'm not the only one who's been keeping secrets,” was all Wade seemed to have taken away from this. Still, his facial expression softened when he finally met Peter’s harsh stare. “Look, I thought-”

“No, you didn't, cause if you did you wouldn't have gone and done this!”

“Yeah, you’re right! I didn’t think, okay!” Wade exploded all of a sudden, raising his voice, which took Peter aback. Wade was the one who moved closer to him, then. Peter had to slightly look up as to not break off their eye contact which the Merc now seemed resolute not to break off. “I tend to do that a lot, if you haven’t picked up on it, yet.”

Wade’s face was leaning down toward his, but Peter’s feet stayed stubbornly were they were. By no means, there was the same sense of danger he had gotten from him pointing his gun right at his face. Wade’s hands were hovering beside the smaller man’s arms like he wanted to touch or grab them but didn’t know if he could or even had the right to do so. There was no trace of anger on his face like Peter knew there had been on his own before the surprise that had just now taken over every part of it. Desperation maybe, but no anger. It only appeared like he wanted him to understand something so desperately so that it was enough to make him drop his typical laidback facade.

But he was missing the point. Wade was far from stupid. He knew what he was doing when he decided to go after Ben’s murderer. He must have known how his boyfriend would react if so, he wouldn’t have chosen to keep it a secret from him. But then again, Peter did as well… If he had mentioned his plan to the mercenary, would he have still gone on with his own? Pretend like he wasn’t doing the same thing as well, with a much darker intention behind it?

Rather impatient, Peter replied, “no, it has nothing to do with th-”

“You knew what you signed up for when you hooked up with my fucked up ass!” Wade continued anyway, determined. “I don’t overthink about those things like you do. I act, and then I try to forget about it.”

The hint of hurt Peter could hear in the back of Wade’s voice nearly had its way to rupture whatever cold front he had been trying to maintain. However, Peter was way too stubborn to let go of it already, even though he could feel it slowly slipping off him (the hatred that was never really there in the first place) the longer he had to look at the struggle, like a fight happening within him, in his lover’s face. Only a small part of Peter wanted to leave the Merc on the rooftop to think over his questionable intents, but even it knew that wouldn’t be a good idea nor that it would satisfy him in any way.

All Peter wanted was to know was why Wade would think killing that man was ever a good idea, and, fortunately, he got his answer pretty quickly…

“All I could think about was you, and May, and what that guy did to you. Ben didn’t deserve what he got, and I wanted someone to pay for it. Maybe that makes me a huge fucking asshole, and I get it, I know I am! I didn’t want you to have to go through this pile of shit. I thought if I did this it would make this better for you, but I always end up fucking up and doing the wrong damn things…”

Wade interrupted his own tirade by letting out an aggravated exclamation that ranged between a cry and a groan that took Peter entirely off guard. He had turned away from him in a swift move, looking greatly frustrated with himself. Peter never took his eyes off him, though, and watched intently in silence, completely still, as Wade paced, apparently trying to find his next words. A car had started honking in the distance far below them mixed with all of the other noises that came with a busy Saturday night in New York, but Peter was so transfixed by the small scene happening in front of him to care about any of it. There could have been a fire occurring right beside him, and he wouldn’t have cared, as long as Wade was still basically breaking down over there.

“I’m sorry…” Wade eventually said as he ran a hand fervently through his short hair. “I don’t understand your uncle as much as you do. I shouldn’t have tried to get all into this bullshit the way I fucking did, but that’s the only thing I know how to do, you know?”

“I know.”

Peter could feel his face loosening slightly along with his infuriation for the man. There was still the slight feeling of betrayal lingering in there, but he could understand much better now. It was difficult to imagine what was going on inside of that man’s head most of the time, and especially now. He had his reasons, and despite how much Peter disagreed with them, he couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t imagined at least once this scenario to happen. They were lucky things had ended up the way they did.

“It’s like I can’t properly think when you’re involved… like I have no clue about anything, and I just end up improvising shit without knowing what to do. I turn back into a fucking virgin! You bring up the best of me or the worst, I don’t fucking know, but you sure as hell were the one good thing in my life and I go and blow it the fuck up!”

It was he was in the middle of a made-up argument with Peter, despite the latter not having any part in it. All that the teenager could understand from this was that Wade felt bad about this whole thing, terrible even. Which was great, but it also sounded like, maybe, he thought that Peter never wanted to see his face again after this? Whatever the Peter in his head was telling to him seemed final, whatever the hell that meant. _Does he think this is some kind of end or something?_ Peter wondered as he looked at the man pacing and his hands waving around along with his loud gibberish. _Wade… always jumping to weird conclusions… and not making any sense._ Peter had to smile.

“What are you on about?”

“You would be way better off without me fucking up all the time!”

“But, you don’t!” Peter retorted, but Wade wasn’t giving any impression that he heard him or that he was even aware that the young man was still on the rooftop with him. He seemed out of it, like, perhaps, his mind was bursting with spiraling thoughts that he just had to let out. He wouldn’t stop moving around either, and it wouldn’t surprise Peter all that much if he ended up falling off the roof seeing as he seemed dangerously too distracted to notice how close to the edge his moving around was leading him.

“I knew it was a matter of time before I fuck this up beyond repair and that I never should’ve let you…”

Peter called out for him, knowing how useless it would be even beforehand, “Wade. Wade, listen!”

“…be with me. But I can change, you know? I could try! Maybe I could…”

“Goddammit, Wade…” Peter muttered before quickly shooting out a web right in the middle of his chest and tugging at it. “That was my last one.”

Peter caught him in his arm, both hands grabbing the man’s upper arms as Wade’s ended up grabbing onto his chest. The older man’s facial expression would’ve almost been funny if it wasn’t from the reason why Peter had done this in the first place. Wade had fallen quiet, finally. His mouth was slightly opened, but nothing was coming out of it anymore, not even his breath. He was also finally looking down right at him again, which Peter hoped meant that he was back with _him_.

“You’re crazy,” Peter said to him, watching those brown eyes of his that were widened a bit as they studied his face with particular attention.

“Crazy for you, baby?” Wade replied automatically, but his face had gone all scrunched up in a contorted grimace the second it came out, as though he was expecting to get reprimanded over it.

“And you talk way too much,” Peter added, shaking his head slightly.

Wade was giving him a look as if silently asking how he was supposed to take those statements and had apparently made his choice as he was now trying to get away from him. One of Peter’s hand grabbed him by the front of his jacket before he could do so, the other one settling under it and over his t-shirt, over his ribs. It was warm under there, and he could swear he could feel the man’s hard and fast heartbeat under his fingers.

Wade was looking down puzzledly at his hands on him. When he spoke again, he sounded maybe even more hurt than Peter had heard him all night and just as offended as if Peter had screamed at him to jump off: “You don’t have to break up with me like this, you know? Spare a guy, maybe? I can just go, I know the way out. Well, I don’t, but I-”

The hand that was currently holding Wade’s red jacket moved to cover his mouth instead, preventing him from keep talking nonsense. Which he still was, anyway, since Peter could feel his lips moving under his palm and hear a flow of muffled words coming from there.

“Shhhh!” Peter tried quieting him, chuckling despite himself. But then he said, much serious, hoping with everything he had that the man would _listen_ and understand what he meant, “I love you, but never do that for me again, that’s all. Or ask me about it, next time?”

“Woht?”

“I said, you know, we should’ve talked about this instead of doing stuff on our own in secret like that,” Peter explained, the man’s stubble vaguely tickling his fingers.

Wade’s words came out all muffled, pretty much indecipherable to Peter’s ears, “woo a minot, fukk, a thought yuu wer ghota dum ma ahss!”

“What?” Peter asked, feigning confusion, but he was grinning.

Wade rolled his eyes at him before he started peeling the younger man’s fingers off his face and repeated, “I thought you were gonna dump my ass.”

“No,” Peter assured. “No, I just want you to understand that whatever how much you think that something is the best for me, ask me about it. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Wade had kept his hand in his and had started tracing his thumb over his knuckles. Both of their hands were quite dry, but the 18 years old couldn’t help but relish a little in the way it felt. Not for that small gesture alone but for that moment of calm in general. It was difficult to stay mad at Wade after everything he had said and from how seriously he had taken his reproaches, how genuinely apologetic he was. Peter would have to stop expecting the Merc to react a certain way, not unlike what Wade had got to stop doing with him.

In a way, Peter was almost glad now that the Merc had been there, if only it were for them to end up like this. In the best-case scenario, the killer was going to be arrested for the God knew how many crimes he had committed in the past, and Ben could rest. He had to keep telling himself that it was the most important thing.

_He could breathe again._

“I guess,” Wade replied, shrugging. But then, gazing down at him in a way Peter knew very well, and always lead to his face turning a deep shade of red and his eyes to divert themselves from the man’s as to not feel too self-conscious, the older man whispered, “I would kill for you, you know that?”

“And don’t!” Peter gave Wade’s chest a light smack with that before adding, genuinely curious, “do you really think this is a good way to show affection?”

“Affection, love, whatever you wanna call it,” Wade answered pensively. He stopped seemingly to think, staring down at his thumb still running against the back of Peter’s hand. It took some more seconds before he said, almost timidly, and as though he was answering his own unspoken question, “yeah. I’ve got a soft spot for you, yeah.”

“Are you sure I’m the one still in high school?” Peter teased him, smiling from ear to ear like he hadn’t done in some time, his cheeks starting to hurt with it.

“Suck my dick!”

Only half-joking, Peter retorted, “you’re lucky I didn’t confiscate your gun!”

“Yes, Aunt May,” he taunted him back, smiling himself.

Peter scoffed, but then it occurred to him. He needed to make sure before they left. “Seriously, though, Wade. Tell me you understand?”

Wade’s facial expression turned solemn. It was almost too serious, almost out of place on his face in Peter’s eyes, but the young man was grateful for it.

“Yeah.”

And with that, Peter knew he was telling the truth.

“Good,” he said, patting Wade’s chest twice before walking away toward the edge of the building to look down at the extent of its surface. He made a sign for Wade to join him. “Now, can we go get pizza and eat our emotions? I’ve got a lot to unload, right now.”

The Merc only response was to clutch at his stomach with both hands, nodding like a madman. Peter snorted at him and signaled him to hop on his back again, which didn’t appear to surprise him in the slightest now.

“Wanna go for a slide?” Peter asked him once the man was settled on his back, turning his head just enough so he could see the upper part of his face that wasn’t hidden behind his shoulder. His arms were hugging him around his neck while his legs were doing the same with his middle section, his face burying itself comfortably on the side of his neck. Peter could feel Wade snuggling against him like he wasn’t about to go down forty floors and instead go to sleep.

They must have looked very funny to an outsider’s eye.

“Marry me,” he heard Wade mumbling against his skin, as he was getting ready to drop down the edge and slide on his hands and feet.

“Alright, big guy, calm down. You’re still an idiot.”


	23. Spandex & Latex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are they going to fuck on the couch?” Yes, Karen, they're going to fuck on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a shitfuck of a month. Here, takes this coffee and university tears fueled porn.

He started running once he crossed the street, the angry screams of a man following after him. The two people already walking on the sidewalk didn’t have the time to step out of the way before he tried pushing them apart. His attempt was a bad one, and he tripped and fell hard on his front, causing the gun he didn’t know he had to slip out of his hand and onto the pavement a few centimeters ahead of him. There was a senior man there, looking down at him. His eyes had stopped short on the black weapon laying between the two of them. He started reaching out for it on all fours before the other man could. It only resulted in both of them struggling over it, the muzzle of his gun digging into the old man’s chest in his vain effort to force it off of his hands.

Wade could feel his finger squeezing the trigger like it had done a million times before, only now, he had no idea if it had been intentional or if that old impulse of his had acted on its own. The man had stopped struggling and was falling at the mercenary’s feet, now clutching at a gaping wound in the middle of his torso, big enough so they could both see through it as blood was pouring out of it like a faucet. He could hear another scream coming from behind him, lone and piercing this time, but he ignored it and just started running again. A wall had appeared at the end of the street out of nowhere. Wade thought he might hit right into it, except, it seemed to swallow him whole instead…

“Uhh? Urgh…”

_The fuck… Again?_ Wade had to blink a few times to chase the blurriness away. He was met with the familiar sight of his white ceiling, the brown stain precisely above his head staring down at him with its usual dolphin shape. Or did it look more like a manatee? He had forgotten what he had decided on.

“Good nap?”

He turned his head slightly to the right where Peter’s voice came from. He was facing Wade and the couch, sitting crossed legs on the carpet not too far away from them; the exact same position he had last seen him in. His hands were occupied with the same mask and needle that they were before he remembered closing his eyes. From Wade’s position, only the top half of the TV screen could be seen behind the boy’s shape, but, judging by the poor sound and the cheesy festive music coming from it, the 70s Christmas movie he had opened it to hours ago was about to end. Or was it another one? He could vaguely remember being excited about an old Christmas movies marathon…

“I never noticed how much of a weird sleeper you are,” Peter then said, his eyes already returned to his task.

Through the window, it was still bright daylight outside. Wade could feel excruciating tingles running down his entire left arm. It was stuck between his body and the couch in this twisted and uncomfortable position. He pulled it off with a half-hearted grunt before it ended up dropping like deadweight on his chest, the sleeve of his red sweater all stretched out and dangling off his fingers. He must not have been asleep for too long, though, since only one of the two lenses Peter had been trying to set up on his mask since he had gotten here was fully on. But then again, he had kept messing it up and fixing symmetry errors, going as far as to put the mask over Wade’s face one and a half time, earlier, while he was still awake, to figure out where to put the eyes. His old instant camera, as well as the picture he had taken of Peter seconds before dozing off, remained on the floor next to the arm of the couch closer to his head where he had left it.

One thing that was different was the suit on the floor next to Peter. That supposedly finished product had been laying over one of his chairs for the last two days where Peter seemed completely too engrossed in finding the perfect mask that would fit with such an already flashy enough costume. Well, he could always change his mind again given the many, _many_ poorly drawn designs, as well as Wade’s personal and unerasable contributions to them, covering most of his kitchen table at the moment. The very few bits of the wooden surface that weren’t hidden under pieces of papers, themselves covered in red and blue ink, was with rejected pieces of garments of the same colors.

“You kick and make sounds the same way dogs do when they dream,” Peter added, not bothering to look up at him, but with a knowing smile that gave Wade the impression that he was missing on a good joke.

“Uh? Who you calling a dog, now?” the older man retorted back quite groggily. He tried sitting up but fell back on the couch almost immediately in defeat. “I can give you doggy style.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

Wade was attempting to revive his arm by shaking the last remaining tingles off when he vaguely replied, “was a weird one.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…” No matter how adamant Peter was on them not keeping secrets from each other anymore, there was no way he could be telling the truth on that one. Motioning to the bright blue and red suit laying on the carpet, Wade elaborated further with a bit of improvising, “I think your little DIY over there is getting to my head.”

“Oh, really?” the young man asked, distracted, his back leaning heavily forward to inspect whatever thing he was seeing between the stitches of his mask right now.

“Sure thing! How else would you explain being chase by that chick from _Avatar_ , a very naked Marge Simpson, _hairy in all the good places I might add_ , and the red _Transformer_ inside of a Jell-O castle? Or, do you think I simply discover a new kink? Is that what you think?”

“The Jell-O part or the rest?”

“All of it,” Wade stated, shifting inelegantly on the couch until he was laying on his right side with both hands settling under his head. Peter had let go of his needle to look up at him, as well as the broad smile he was giving him. He seemed amused when he started shaking his head at him, but he quickly got back to his chore, one corner of his mouth not so subtly lifted up despite itself.

Wade didn’t know which one out of those two situations was the most awkward: waking up from the same exact dream he just had, but in the middle of the night with a sound-asleep Peter in his arms all curled up onto him, or that moment just now. A recurring dream, _more like a nightmare_ , about him killing Ben Parker was never ideal, in any case, he could admit. Was it his guilt over what had happened? It did start after what he would call, to make himself feel better, that ‘slim misjudgment’ of his. It had been almost three whole weeks since then, and he was still left astonished every time Peter would show up at his door or window like Wade hadn’t tried to do the exact opposite of the last thing his uncle had said to him just before he died. He was glad Peter got what he wanted before Wade could ruin it all with his stupid thinking; glad that he could have some peace of mind without him ripping that off him.

_And he still loves you after that, for some reason._ Maybe Peter was the one completely bonkers. _Not too far-fetched_ , he thought next, staring at the young man squinting his eyes and bating his hair away without actually doing something about it, next to a flashy costume he was genuinely planning to wear outside.

For the first few days, Wade couldn’t risk saying _those words_ back in fear of getting that clarification that would make much more sense to him. He too would say shit out of the heat of the moment sometimes. Maybe Peter thought he was about to jump off that rooftop and kill himself or something and said it just to spare having the death of a pathetic twat on his conscience. But then, Peter repeated _it_ one night, and Wade forgot all about it, and now he couldn’t stop saying it like it was some kind of catchy song that wouldn’t get out of his head every time Peter was around. It didn’t seem to annoy Peter just yet, especially since he was lending him his apartment for his dyeing and stitching business, as well as for his various and very confusing experiments. Some of Wade’s walls still hadn’t forgotten, in some places, the 18 years old’s quest to assemble another one of those wrist thingies, which he never seemed to ever take off now, for some reason. At least, Wade got a good view out of it all.

“You’re not done with that yet?”

“That mask is a… b-word,” the younger man grumbled, looking suddenly very annoyed like he had been waiting for an opportunity to express it.

“So cute, I love you. Will it even fit, though? You will need one of those ugly-ass caps to keep all of this hair inside,” Wade let out in one single breath.

To Wade’s surprise, Peter set everything in his hands down on his crossed legs and started glaring at him as though he had just insulted his grandma’s honor.

“Oh, no, not you too! It’s enough that my aunt has been bugging me about getting a haircut all the time…”

“And she’s right! You look like all members of Duran Duran in their prime days.”

“I don’t know who that is and I don’t wanna know what they look like.”

“It’s a touchy subject, I get it. I had a tough time cutting off my braid. I can still feel it at night sometimes. Twenty years of work flushed in the toilet. Wish you could’ve met her.”

“You got my condolence.”

“Thank you, baby.” His face mushing itself even more into his right palm, Wade then extended his left arm toward the ignored spandex in a small heap not too far away from the other man’s knee, asking, “did you even try it on, yet?”

“Earlier, yeah,” Peter answered as he held the mask in front of his face, seemingly evaluating if it actually looked like something a human being would wear.

Out of genuine surprise, Wade’s arm dropped down and let itself dangling down the side of the couch, the tip of his fingers grazing the bristly carpet. “What? When?”

“When you, Old Yeller, were sleeping.”

“Why?”

Peter, whether completely unaware or simply ignoring the different forms of outrage found on the older man’s face, only offered him an offhand shrug in response as he put down his streaked mask on him. The needle was dangling off the upper part of the half-stitched lens and kept bouncing for a few short seconds against the side of Peter’s leg.

“You didn’t think I would wanna see? You would deprive _me_ of this? Your devotee lover and confident? The one who’s been giving his heart and soul in this after-school project of yours? Extracurricular? Extra curry?”

“First of all, it’s more than just an extracurricular activity. And you didn’t help all that much, Wade.”

“Beg your pardon! I gave you my favorite pair of sunglasses! I did those huge spider thingies! You said it was great!”

“You did do the spider thingies,” Peter conceded under his breath. “Okay, fine. I’m done for today, anyway.”

Wade watched him as he then pushed the small piece of fabric off him and stood up much quicker than what a lanky 18 years old should ever be capable to. He was getting so used to see his blurry figure moving around his apartment that he was barely even batting an eye at it anymore. Unless, of course, it was to stick himself on any surface that wasn’t the floor for no reasons at all other than to be a fucking a show-off. Speaking of which, Wade’s eyes went round as the younger man was already starting to unceremoniously unbutton his jeans right in the middle of the living room.

Before Peter could take them off all the way and it would be too late, the older man hurried to say, “I’m sure it really _suits_ you. Huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

If Peter had been hiding the sight of the TV before, now he was covering the vast majority of the screen where it appeared like a ton of people in a church was singing a Christmassy chant, possibly making it the most festive striptease the Merc ever had. Peter was now pulling his pants all the way off with its outside out like what those crazy people did, taking his white socks with it. Underneath, he had been wearing his old dark grey boxer brief with the tear in the elastic band that still managed to be a close fit on him despite it. Wade briefly rubbed his hands together before joining them behind his head in his effort to find the perfect position on the couch to get a better view. Of the suit, of course.

“Hope you made enough space for your huge ass,” he remarked, unabashedly ogling the man’s naked legs and his underwear, while very worn-out, still didn’t really leave much to his already extraordinarily vast imagination. “Your hot piece of ass…”

“Aaaand here’s why.”

“Maybe I should start stripping too, so you don’t feel so alone?”

Peter, who had picked up the bright pair of bottoms that were at his feet, didn’t grant him any additional answer other than a silent sigh and started putting them on. It started easily enough, the tight material hugging his slim legs like shiny legging on a pop star from the 80s. However, once he got to the part that was unfortunately covered with his sad case of underwear, pulling spandex over soft cotton proved itself to be quite the arduous task.

“You might wanna wear a thong under this from now on,” Wade suggested as his head followed Peter’s mesmerizing little hops on the carpet. “Or just go for it bare, since it already looks like you’re stepping into a giant condom, anyway. Wouldn’t be the first time for me, eh, Pete?”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, and Wade knew he had to shut his cake hole if he wanted to ever end up seeing the suit on the young man’s body and not being smacked in his own face. His lips now tightly pressed together, the Merc watched as Peter was taking his long-sleeved shirt off and was picking up the top part of his suit from the floor. He had his fully functional web-shooters, as he really liked to call them nowadays, closed around both wrists. They disappeared under the skin-tight cloth in a matter of seconds it took for the teenager to put it on.

Wade could feel a flush crept up his face as he could finally take the sight of the suit in its entirety. The black spider at the center of his chest was looking as rad and as dramatic as Wade had wanted it to be when he first pitched out the idea, but he couldn’t pretend like the cobweb patterns all over the suit weren’t helping with that as well. Peter didn’t appear to know what to do as he stood there, his bare feet swaying on the carpet as he made some vague gestures with his hands, as though waiting for him to say something. It was only then that Wade noticed just how incredibly too warm his skin had started to get under his sweater, which was quite the worrying fact since he was completely naked from the waist down.

“Why spandex, again?” he ended up letting out a bit croakily, his eyes unexplainedly glued to Peter’s arms where he could very clearly see the outline of his muscle through the fabric.

“It’s practical.”

“Cool-looking doesn’t always mean practical, you know that?”

Peter scoffed, his upper body leaning back a little and his face making that thing where it went into a full-on ray of fucking sunshine. One that liked to mock his ass a whole lot.

“That doesn’t mean much coming from someone who’s been wearing the same Christmas sweater for _days_. If you’re so obstinate on wearing one all December, why can’t you just buy another?”

The older man wordlessly straightened up on the couch only to sit down right at the center of it and help up his middle finger toward Peter, who only scoffed even more loudly in response.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too flashy, though?” Wade then pointed out, waving his hands close to his face in somewhat of a jazzy motion.

“What do you mean?” Peter asked him right back, looking down with a frown at himself like he wasn’t actually wearing bright blue and red tights with a damn cobweb pattern.

“You wanna catch bad guys, but you dress like a road sign… but blue,” he replied. Then, gesturing to Peter’s body, he added, “and it’s so fucking tight… and revealing…”

“It’s made like that!”

“I mean, if I were one of your criminals, I would cream my pants before you could even swing one at me… That’s all I’m saying.”

Peter folded his arms over his chest and took the few steps separating them. His right knee bumped against the Merc’s left one only to stay there. The material of his suit felt weird against his skin, and he couldn’t help but wondered just how _interesting_ it would feel under his palms.

“So, what you’re saying is that I look like a walking condom who’s _also_ a walking road sign that people would want to sleep with?” he recapped, his voice filled with bitterness. “All good things to know.”

“That _I_ would also want to sleep with,” Wade cheerfully rectified, but it didn’t appear to make much impression on Peter, whose shoulders suddenly sagged and eyes started averting his. He was about to turn away, but Wade managed to grab him by the back of his thighs before he could do so.

“Remind me to restart all over again,” Peter told him. While he was meeting his eyes again, he still looked and sounded way too defeated for Wade’s liking.

“No fucking way, Babydoll! That’s enough of that bullshit! It looks badass!”

“Make up your mind, Wade.”

“It’s perfect, don’t change anything! Unless it’s to tighten it all up,” Wade affirmed to him, muttering that last part under his breath and momentarily forgetting about the guy’s stupid enhance hearing. “I’m just your pervert boyfriend who would wanna fuck you in a realistic spider costume, eight legs and fuzzy hair and all.”

“Really? Looking like a real spider?” Peter said each word with particular emphasis, not like he was touched by Wade’s statement, not in the slightest, but more in a ‘are you fucking serious’ kind of way. Wade nodded solemnly, anyway, and started running his palms all over the back of Peter’s legs. It really was a fascinating sensation, so it seemed.

“It kinda looks uncomfortable, though,” he noticed, pinching between his fingers a bit of the tight material at the back of Peter’s knee in an attempt to slap it back against his skin, but to no avail. Kind of proved his point, though.

“Well, yeah, it’s kind of itchy.” Peter paused for a few seconds, looking very hesitant to continue. “And it rides up in the crotch a little bit, too,” he ended up saying, and Wade now knew he had been evaluating if he could admit that fact with him being at such a good eye level to the subject of his statement. He had to admire the dude’s boldness.

“You should’ve lemme measure it when I offered.”

“As if I would let you get within two feet of me with a ruler in your hand again.”

Wade’s hands roamed up until they were covering the other man’s entire behind. He gave it a little squeeze, _it was_ _kind of a strong one he had to admit_ , that forced Peter forward and his fingers to dig hard onto his shoulders as to not fall like a rock on top of him.

Hugging and fondling Peter’s mid-section affectionately, and his voice a bit muffled by the fact that he had buried one side of his face deep into his lower belly, Wade sighed, “I could write songs about those.”

With his only ear that wasn’t firmly pressed into spandex, Wade could hear the younger man saying, “you already did, remember? And you shooting the word ‘buns’ over and over again is barely a song, anyway.”

“Yeah, they’re all works in progress. Weasel didn’t really like that last one… at all. I think he wants to get me killed even more than usual,” Wade said, all while rubbing his head against him like a cat. He could feel a hand lightly patting the top of his head in an awkwardly slow fashion. “My name is all over that fucking dead pool. Last time, he threatened to write your name in if I didn’t stop. Turns out rags doesn’t go all the way down people’s throat.”

“Wade, what exactly are you doing?” Peter inquired pulling back, very understandably so, from the older man until there were some very few spaces between them again. “You’re gonna get saliva all over my suit.”

“I’m getting to know it! And saliva is probably not the worst thing I’m gonna get on it…”

“You _really_ need to get laid, man,” Peter said, matter-of-factly, glancing down between the two of them at Wade’s very exposed crotch. “Nice semi there, by the way.”

“Are you offering to help with that, ‘cause I’ll take it.”

“No, of course not!” he replied, sounding so overly sarcastic that, if it had been anyone else other than Peter, the Merc wouldn’t have reconsidered it twice before slapping them in the face. “I was more thinking like you could go send a little visit to your local prostitutes. I’m sure at least one of them would wanna help.”

Feigning making a move to stand up, Wade breathed out with an inflated grunt, “well then, if I have mister’s approval…”

Before it could even hover more than two centimeters above the couch, his ass was right back on it by one little push of Peter’s way too quick and strong hands. He looked up at him, expecting him to say something, but all he did was meet his eyes with an expression on his face that usually meant Wade was about to get his biscuit buttered.

“Are you just gonna stand there or you’re gonna sit on me?”

“Haven’t decided, yet.”

Counter to what he just said not even a second ago, _he tended to do that a lot_ , Peter then straddled his lap without any warning for his dick to get prepared for the delightful assault. His clad legs closed around Wade’s naked ones with his knees being tightly pressed against his hips, which had caused his sweater to rise up a bit. Peter’s arms, for their part, had instinctively gone around the older man’s shoulders. Wade leaned his face toward the other until their foreheads were touching, and wasn’t in the least surprised when his head practically had to chase him down for their mouths to so much as graze against one another. He was quite enjoying himself, _the bastard_ …

“Petey the tease is in the house!” Wade said in the same way he thought he would do if he were to ever announce the next stripper at a racy show. However, the lack of microphone seemed to have helped to tone down his performance enough for the young man to still be seated on his lap. “Oh, wait!”

He had remembered the camera laying right beside the couch, and now his mind wouldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of having a picture of Peter on top of him with one crazy porn looking suit on. Also, the prospect of getting back at the teenager for all of the compromising positions he had obtained of him on film was particularly sweet. His upper body nothing but bent sideways to get to the small object off the floor. With an extended grunt of effort, he managed to pull it up by the very tip of his fingers and let it land on the couch cushion beside them. Peter, who had very quickly caught on what he was doing, hid his face in the man’s neck faster than it took to say the word “nope.”

“Only one!” Wade uttered out in a pleading tone, while still taking the picture the second the words were out of his mouth, anyway. He wasn’t as lucky as Peter and had been staring right at the flash as it went off, and blinked profusely while the picture slowly came off the device.

“You can’t pretend like you’re not as worst as me with the pictures thing,” Peter remarked, his puffs of breath hitting his skin with each word.

“I’m gonna call this one _spider monkey_ ,” the older man said, his vision fucked by the white spot lingering everywhere he looked. “With lots of little hearts around it.”

Wade didn’t get the chance to see the final product, though, as he felt, with a happy startle, Peter’s fingers wrapping themselves around the base of his dick. With the photograph still attached to it, the camera very nearly slipped right off his hand and onto the carpeted floor. He had to concentrate all of his effort as to not let it do exactly that as Peter’s opened mouth made contact with the sensitive skin below his right ear. He thought about saying something, but it escaped right out of his mind before he could even find out what it would have been. Much like Wade had done before when he was trying to retrieve it, he lowered his arm by stretching it uncomfortably so until he could feel the bottom of the camera touching the floor. It made a very small thud when he let it drop there to immediately go back for Peter’s spandex cladded ass, _something he never thought he_ _would get to do even in his craziest dreams_. His hands slid inside easily enough, even more so than he had expected.

Peter’s fingers were slowly moving in the very few amounts of space it had between their two bodies, and the Merc was even more happy than he could possibly be about his no-pants-on-weekends habit (that he still pretended existed before he had a spider-mutated Peter squatting at his place all the time). The man was currently sucking relentlessly wet kisses all over the junction between his shoulder and his neck all while doing the complete opposite with the hand that was barely moving on his dick like a fucking tyrant. It took him a few seconds to notice that Peter’s other one had started pulling at the bottom of his red sweater to strip him out of it. Without really wanting to, Wade’s own hands left the warmth that was the inside of the young man’s suit to remove the comfy piece of clothing himself. He had expected to feel the cold, but the skin of his chest was so hot and flushed he barely even sensed the difference. Peter’s mouth had promptly moved down to one of his collarbones to continue his red trail. There were maybe a few more seconds of this before his lips detached themselves from his skin to look down between them and at his touch on Wade that had gone completely still, which kind of pushed the man to wonder if there was something wrong with little Wadey for a moment there. If you were to ask him, it seemed to be working pretty well, right now.

“My hand is probably like sandpaper,” Peter quietly said, as he took his fingers off entirely and started rubbing them with his other hand like it could do something about it.

“I like your sandpaper hands. They’re a lot better than your popsicle toes.”

Peter squirmed on top of him just enough so his legs would still be framing his, but also that he could, so it appeared, lean his head forward without having his chest in the way. Wade learned very quickly what it was all about when, not that all he could see much down there except the guy’s brown mane now tickling his lower belly, he felt the somewhat familiar sensation of Peter’s mouth and tongue on his fully functional dick. Wade did exactly what he was supposed to do in this situation and only grabbed the most amount of hair he could, which the young man had a lot of, and pulled at it as he pleased.

He had gotten pretty good at it since that one time in the teenager’s room that Wade would very dramatically call “The Incident” if it weren’t from the fact that they had sworn to each other, for Peter’s ego’s sake, to never speak of it again. It was many many weeks ago, back when everything was still relatively fresh and before the whole thing with Ben, in the pitch darkness of the teenager’s bedroom. Wade could remember him quietly moving down the bed and under his blankets, and next thing he knew Peter was quietly dying under there. Long story short, Peter had almost died from suffocation because he had been too damn nervous to come back up and say anything. Or maybe he had been so scared of his aunt and uncle hearing them and his choking that he would have rather died than have to confront that situation. Either way, it was still fucking hilarious.

All that Wade could see, despite, of course, the guy’s brown locks where his fingers had long disappeared into ( _I heard that if you keep them there long enough, your fingers just become part of it forever_ ), was his back and the red, blue and black pattern covering it. The red spider there was staring at him, and he kind of regretted making it this fucking spectacular now. Peter’s top was so high up the neck it made him crazy not being able to touch the soft skin there that he knew would have small hairs rising up. Peter was leaning forward so much that the muscles of his back were profusely visible through the tight fabric, so much so that the Merc wouldn’t have been surprised to see it tear in half in front of his eyes. Or maybe he was just projecting his feeling of being about to burst out of his skin, who really knew. Either way, Wade’s dick was about to fall off with him happily letting it happen, and he had all sorts of reasons when he started pulling with both hands at the back of Peter’s top. Though, he was stopped before he could expose more than his tailbone.

“Careful!” Peter loudly warned as though he didn’t just have a dick in his mouth a microsecond before, startling Wade _just a little bit_ while doing so. “I don’t wanna get a scratch in it just yet.”

“Huh? I thought you made it just for this situation?” he jested, cocking one eyebrow.

The young man snorted at him before taking off his top in the most careful manner Wade had ever seen someone do in his entire life. He had kind of started to expect him to lovingly fold it and lay it down on the floor, but he only did that last part, while still in a very tender way. It seemed like the both of them remembered Peter’s web-shooters at the same time, but he did nothing to take them off and pulled himself off Wade to take off the bottom half of his suit as carefully as he had done with the other half. Wade didn’t know where his underwear disappeared to, probably stuck inside spandex for the rest of eternity, but he was glad it was already gone. He was also incredibly grateful for the fact that it took Peter so quickly to get off of that thing that he didn’t have the time to start touching his rock-hard prick like a guy who hadn’t seen an ass in twenty years like he was probably about to.

As Peter was straddling him again, he asked, his fingers brushing the bottom of the device around the wrist the closest to his face, “why do you still have those on?”

“I have an idea…” the young man vaguely replied. He had turned one side of his body toward the only bed in the room and lifted one arm pointing directly at the bedside table to its right.

“Something kinky, I ho-”

Peter’s head shifted at an abnormal speed in front of him just as the drawer went flying across the room. Like it was straight out of a cartoon, Wade saw a flash of brown growing bigger and closer to his face until everything went black. There was an excruciating shot of pain at his left cheek right underneath his eye and then a loud cacophony of noises as various objects bolted everywhere around the room. Well, Wade only had to guess that last part since his eyes were watering way too much for him to actually see anything. His ears were definitely still working, though. If he wasn’t dead, which was a good possibility. The sun was setting out the window. He could tell by the way warm colored light had taken over a good part of the room and blinding him even more. The man on top of him was merely a blurry figure with a sunny glow to it that very well could be an angel welcoming him in heaven for all he knew.

“Oh, my god, Wade! I’m so sorry! Sorry!” Peter kept repeating over and over again while his hands were moving around stroking his neck and now very sore face. The sentiment was there, but the laughter Wade could very clearly hear behind his voice was sort of ruining it.

“What the… what the fuck… I’m naked, and I just got attacked,” he breathed out to himself while blinking profusely, and it was apparently exactly what Peter needed to stop pretending and fully bursting out laughing in his face. “Oh, my god… Add that to the list of traumas.”

“Sorry, sorry! I thought I could get the lube! I thought it would work, I’m sorry!” Peter said again, very obviously trying to at least contain his smile. Wade didn’t know if he was still apologizing for the drawer to his head or for his cruel hilarity at his predicament. Either way, the kisses to his face and mouth were nice.

“I don’t think they’re cool anymore,” Wade said as he saw the young man about to use his web-shooter again.

“There it is,” Peter spoke, before shooting a web toward the TV stand where a shiny blue bottle the other man knew very well had landed. He could’ve chosen any one of those that had fallen around the room, even one of the two small ones that had landed right beside them on the couch since that drawer had basically been Wade’s affectionately called ‘sticky corner’ before its entire content was splattered around his apartment. One bottle had nothing but exploded from hitting the kitchen wall and was pouring out a sticky liquid from it that was more than likely making his wooden floor taste like good old cherry. _That’ll teach me to have dreams and want to live life the fullest._

“I almost died,” Wade let out, blinking away the last remaining of tears lingering in his eyes until he could see Peter and the room around him that was getting darker by every second much clearer. “I almost died for fucking lube. We should really hide some everywhere from now on. At your house, too.”

“I don’t understand why you’re so surprised about that, to be honest with you,” Peter replied while still giving his aching cheek a lingering kiss anyway.

“If you wanted us to play it rough that fucking much, you could’ve just told me beforehand. I could’ve told you my safe word, first,” Wade said as he brought a hand to his temple. This new headache was killing him. “I don’t think you know what’s appropriate or not, Vanilla Ice.”

“You can speak, Mister Can-we-put-on-Celine-or-Shania-Twain-first-please.”

“It’s the only good way Canadians can make love, Petey,” he replied matter-of-factly, looking down at Peter’s hands as they were squirting tacky liquid out of the blue bottle. Wade could see him glancing down at his now half-dead dick and pouting ever so slightly with, he hoped, the same wish as him to reanimate it. “And you put on the fucking Wiggles, instead. _Fruit Salad_ , for fuck’s sake…”

“Am I gonna have to do this myself?” Peter interrupted him, managing to sound as demanding as his face was showing uncertainty. His coated fingers had gotten to Wade’s member who was coming back alive embarrassingly fast, yet his own could barely be called a hard-on anymore. At least now Wade knew Peter wasn’t getting off on inflicting him unwanted pain, which was good but was kind of ruining his plan for the night.

His hand leaving Wade, as though just realizing the fact that trying to fuck after inflicting him possible head trauma was probably not the best idea, Peter hurriedly offered, “or, maybe I should go get you some ice?”

What was he thinking, that he was going to leave it there? Like, yeah, the guy only just attempted to kill him, but there was no way Wade was going to pass the chance to smash that…

“Keep that thought for later…”

Forgetting about the other shits that had gotten with them on the couch, Wade grabbed him by both hips and pushed him down until he was laying down on it. Peter didn’t seem to mind that much about the various objects digging in his back since all he did was spread his legs and pressed him down between them with the heels of his feet. The older man took the bottle from Peter and soon enough, a lot sooner than the two was probably even aware of, Wade was vigorously fucking him with some of his fingers. He had almost managed to forget the throbbing of his face to focus instead on the ever-growing one between his legs that was brushing heavily against Peter’s. The pace at which his hand was going at it was conflicting incommensurably with the leisureliness, and even tender-like way, with which Peter was kissing and caressing his face and neck like he was made of the most precious matter. His lips kept going back to his own and it was only when Wade deepened the kiss himself that they lingered there for a while, all ten fingers spread over his stubble.

Not very long after adding a fourth finger to the mix, the older man’s hand was already starting to cramp, which was quite the much more gratifying pain than his cheek’s, which was being soothed anyway. Peter’s hot breath had started coming out more harshly against his mouth and was letting out low groans from deep down his throat. He had lowered his hands down to Wade’s shoulders and pushed on them almost hesitantly, as though his body was didn’t want to execute its own action.

“Ouch…” Peter then let out, and Wade, automatically thinking it was because of the pretty good number of digits he had managed to get inside of him this quick, removed them all entirely. So, the Merc was pretty surprised when, after suddenly bending his arm and slightly lifting his upper body off the couch, Peter retrieved a very crushed box of condoms and threw it in the air where it landed right on top of the bed, and that, before Wade could even muster a single word out.

“Screw that,” Peter said, which the other man decided to take it more like an order to him rather than directed at the small box he had thrown away without any other thought. Though they both moved at the same exact time, and it appeared that Peter liked the idea of riding him as much as he did since he basically moved him in that same position again. Yet, this time, it took a bit more time for him to settle as well since, unlike Wade, Peter hadn’t forgotten about oiling up the attraction he was supposed to get on. Once he was done with that and had, in the same vein, get rid of the dirtied bottle in a place Wade wasn’t really focusing on, he began lowering himself onto him.

“When two become one!” Wade, as soon as he was sunk all the way into the other man, sang at such a high pitch that it caused Peter to jerk his face away from him with a grimace of discomfort on his face for his poor spider ears.

“I told you to stop singing that every time!” Peter reminded him of all of the times he would go off into song during sex. He had very soon gotten over threatening Wade to stop since he was never acting on it anyway.

“Can’t help it,” Wade whispered back huskily, before, much like earlier, proceeding to chase the man’s mouth. This time, Peter didn’t bother making him work for it and gave him even more by squirming on top of him just enough so Wade would start feeling sweat rolling down his back and a wave of heat going up and down his entire body. Speaking of which, the couch under him really felt like it would have very much wanted Peter to fetch a sex towel instead of a whole fucking drawer.

He grabbed Peter by his ass as he started moving for real and dug his still very sticky fingers in the fleshy skin there. Wade didn’t really have to assist with much there, given the guy’s super-strength and super-duper-stamina and all, yet, Peter was letting him guiding his body up and down. The younger’s dick kept rubbing against his abdomen, as he could also feel his short nails scratching his nape and pulling on the very short hair above it. Despite the quite uneven pace they had fallen under, he kept running his tongue and sinking his teeth into the same places on Wade’s neck and shoulder where he had started on earlier.

Peter’s hot breath wouldn’t stop hitting his burning and probably very red skin, and his progression led him to his face. Just as it seemed like he was about to bring their mouth back together, Peter’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, my god, it’s gonna leave a huge bruise!”

Wade was confused for a few seconds until Peter brought a hand to his face where, indeed, it was still very tender. It felt like the forming of a bruise, alright, but Peter didn’t seem to realize it had long become the least of his preoccupations, right now.

“Don’t worry, nobody is gonna accuse you of beating your boyfriend up. If people ask, I’m just gonna tell them I got in a fight at a KFC,” Wade replied, his voice sounding very constricted as Peter hadn’t even wavered a little bit on their rhythm. “Congrats on your second sex accident, by the way. The third time is when one of us dies.”

“When was the first…”

“The time you threw up on my dick.”

Peter stopped his motion altogether with an affronted expression, sitting there like Wade’s dick wasn’t still fully buried inside of him.

“I didn’t! I just coughed a lot.”

“Yeah, yeah, babe… Let’s debate over this later, ‘kay?” Wade answered. He could be pounding him like a motherfucking bull, and he swore Peter would still find a way to bicker with him about some shit. It was the even more humiliating when it was the other way around, and he was left waiting like a fool for Peter to grant him the pleasure to keep on fucking him. “I think what you were doing was helping the headache to go away…”

Before Peter could even finish nodding, clutching his hips hard and leaning forward on the couch, Wade picked up the pace where they had left of, although it was a lot more vigor. Peter had to grab on to the back of his neck as to not let himself fall off, given that his upper body was now in the air and menacing to fall on the carpet if he were to let go. Wade’s hands were slipping a bit from the sweat and the lube still on them, and, for the few moments that he thought he was going to drop him, he was glad for his lover’s super-strength keeping himself into place. He even managed, after a few more erratic thrusts from Wade’s hips, to grab on to his own dick between them with only one arm still holding him up.

All that seemed to be able to come out of Peter half-opened mouth were now different variations of moans. His pretty face was flushed while his forehead was glistening with sweat as strands of his brown hair were sticking to it. Wade wanted to bite the red patch in the middle of Peter’s throat that only ever appeared when they did stuff like that, and so he did. He had stopped his thrusting to bring his back against the couch again and pulled the other man with him. He could feel every vibration of the sounds Peter was making under his lips as he ran his hands up his moving thighs. The right one eventually stopped between his legs and replaced Peter’s hasty touch on his shaft with his own. It allowed Peter to grab the cushion into tight fists on both sides of Wade’s head as he repositioned himself on top of him until he was all Wade could see, feel, smell…

“Fuck…”

Peter ended up letting out a particularly long whine directly into his ear that sent a wave of boiling heat down Wade’s groin that just ended up finishing him right off. Was it the first time Peter had let him come inside of him like that? He knew he had allowed Peter to do it the few times he had been the one on the receiving end of the stick. Was it another relationship step that they had just crossed and that Wade wasn’t aware of before? Either way, Peter didn’t seem too disgusted by it, since, even though he had gone still, wasn’t making any move to get off either. It was only when he had come down of his high enough so he could get some parts of his brain back that he took notice of the state of his fingers and the after-shock tremor all over Peter’s body.

His face hurting and his body deliciously sore, and his apartment in the weirdest state it had ever been, even to his own standard, he fell back asleep on the same sweaty couch not too long after. The last image he saw was the one of a laughing Peter looking down at him with bright eyes as the vague indignation of being called an old man passed over him like water on a whale’s back. A thoroughly fucked whale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got the next 20 chapters planned out, and I’m already developing the fucking sequel... I’m gonna failed all my classes lmao


	24. On the First Day of Christmas, My True Love Gave to Me: Bladder Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 23TH of December. AKA a Wilson at the Parkers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one isn’t very exciting, but I wanted to bring some stuff out before Christmas. So, there’s gonna be like two more festive chapters, if anyone cares to know lol. Or maybe I’m just trying to stretch out the happy parts before the cancer stuff, at this point, who knows… (what’s a Deadpool I don’t know her)

The moment Wade realized the window was being opened was also the one when he noticed the legs not so gracefully coming through it. A full body followed immediately after and, while it was somewhat difficult to tell through the tiny slits of his eyes that were burning from the bright orange ray of sunshine announcing the breaking of dawn, Wade thought that identifying the newcomer as Peter was a pretty good assumption to make. He was currently in the guy’s bed, after all.

Lifting his head off the pillow the tiniest bit, Wade squinted at the illuminated figure. The man had his back turned to him, his feet now touching the floor and a mask covering his face. He was attempting to close the window as gently as he could, which also meant that it was in the slowest approach possible.

“Peesher?” Wade called out, his own voice startling him from how loud it actually came out in the quiet room.

The window made a very small thud as it closed entirely.

“Shush!”

The Merc was probably less surprised than he should have been with suddenly having yellow-tinted insect-like eyes looking down at him in his underwear, but it had gotten pretty old after the third time. Or maybe it had after the second time.

Letting his head fall back on the white pillow, he slurred out, not all that much interested in the response, “whot tamm isshit?”

“It’s not impor-tant,” Peter lowly replied between a prolonged jaw-breaking yawn visible through his red mask. “Make some space.”

A cold wind had traveled across the room upon his arrival. It was especially apparent when Wade, his back now fully flushed to the wall, pulled the two blankets off him to let Peter, still in full costume, slip under them. He couldn’t see the teenager’s eyes, but he was pretty sure they were already closed before his head had even hit the pillow. Since he really wasn’t making any move to take off his mask, Wade did it with one swift movement and threw it under the bed where he knew his aunt wouldn’t be able to see it if she was to come in here. It indeed revealed Peter’s face, which was good since, to his knowledge, there was only one ‘Spider-Man’ living in that house. His eyes indeed shut, he gave Wade vaguely grateful grunt as his gloved hands were searching for a corner of the blanket to pull further toward him. His sweaty hair had scattered everywhere on the pillow as static made them stick upward like he was a disheveled teenager coming back from a three days long rave.

“Ya shood take off ya whole suit… your aunt…” Wade trailed off, too tired himself to even bother finishing his sentence.

Peter made some very unenthusiastic noises with his mouth but didn’t make any move that would indicate he had even understood the older man’s words.

“Remmemberr your rashes frum lass tamm… I still shee you scratching…”

Peter slightly stirred at that and, for a few seconds, Wade thought he was going to fall asleep right then and there, but he very suddenly ended up kicking the blankets off him and over Wade’s face, _as though it was his fault that the guy’s wiener couldn’t take spandex overnight._ Taking off his suit took more time than it should have, especially with only one hand, closed eyes and the stubbornness to stay laid down during all of it. He did the same as Wade and threw the pieces of clothing, one after the other, under his bed, except they could be heard slapping hard against the wall right under where the older man was laying down. Soon enough, his get-up was entirely gone, all excepted his web-shooters that stayed around his naked wrist, as well as his underwear (that he still insisted on wearing under the suit). Peter stole back the blankets from him, and Wade quickly fell back asleep with the recognizable sound of Peter’s soft snores in his ear and ten frozen toes creeping themselves between his bare calves.

When the Merc woke again, it was to a worryingly high amount of brown hair in his mouth, the back of his head painfully crushed against the wall and a Peter still very much asleep on the small bed beside him. It took him a while to reckon that there was no longer any remaining hair sticking to his tongue, and he might have spit on the guy’s head a little in his effort. The entire room was filled with natural light, what with Peter’s window no longer having any blinds since that night where he had come back, a bit like he had done a few hours prior, and got caught into them like an idiot. Wade only had to imagine since he hadn’t been there to see that, but it had probably looked like a cat getting stuck while playing with curtains, except for the tiny little detail that that cat had been a grown man in full thighs. Apparently, his aunt May had woken up thinking it was an intruder and Peter only had a few seconds to do whatever he had to do to avoid the woman seeing the ‘new vigilante extraordinaire Spider-Man’ sneaking into her house in the middle of the night. Not that she could really identify him as such yet, given that the best pictures they have managed to get of him in action were either very blurry, too dark, or not so flattering. It was a wonder they were already able to give him a name. Peter should probably share some of the selfies Wade inadvertently saw in his phone not too long ago. The second-hand embarrassment was pretty high. _I’m sure it would help his tough reputation in the street._

Wade roughly rubbed his eyes before leaning on his left elbow to look over at Peter’s sleeping figure. As always, he was taking on most of the bed, that was already way too small for both of their bodies anyway. He was laying on his front with his arms bent and going under the pillow they had to share. Half of his face was buried in it, drool coming out of his opened mouth, while the other half was very slowly falling down to the mattress. His naked back was partially covered with the blankets, but the part that wasn’t still managed to show some painful looking marks left from his nightly activities. Though there was also the same blueish bruise on his cheek from his last encounter with a car bulger not too long ago, there was a red bump near his left eyebrow that Wade didn’t remember being there before. His own from the drawer incident had long faded, but for a while there the two of them looked somewhat like a bad wrestler’s duo.

It hadn’t even been an entire month since Peter had started spending most of his nights, and sometimes days, fighting crimes, and he was coming back with more cuts and bruises than him when he had first started his mercenary business. It was getting more and more difficult to shake off his desire and to control his mood enough not to go after whoever that had the fucking audacity to hit Peter’s face. Not that he wouldn’t try if he didn’t know who was hiding under that fucking mask and trying to stop him from doing, of what Peter liked to call, his own _criminal activities_. Sometimes his injuries were from lampposts he would knock into during a chase or something, which, if you were to ask Wade, still brought up the question: what were they even doing in Peter’s way in the first place? Nevertheless, the moment he would come back with a knife or a bullet wound would also be the time Wade would give out his promise to never interfere with Peter’s things again and go fuck some people up. Peter kept guaranteeing to him that it would never happen, but… Wade knew it was only to shut him up. There was no way he could be that naïve about it.

After a little while of just laying there wide-awake measuring the inconsistency of his boyfriend’s snores, Wade sat up on the bed. His legs went over Peter’s under the blankets as he leaned his back on the cold wall. He had to be careful as to not disturb the many photographs that were tenuously hanging on by mere tiny pieces of adhesive tape, Wade’s own face looking at him from every angle. That wall was beginning to look like the kind someone with a murderous vengeance would make for their target, minus the red thread linking up everything. Peter’s was kind of sweet, though. Still, it was weird waking up with a picture of himself two inches away from his eyes.

Pushed by plain boredom mixed with some odd curiosity, he decided to try waking Peter up by pressing his thumb on the new bump on his face like he would do to his TV remote. Peter’s eyes started fluttering after only a few seconds of this. He wasn’t pressing that hard so it might have been the farting noises he was making with his mouth every time his finger made contact with his temple that woke the young man up. Perhaps both, who was to say. He was pretty good at being annoying.

“Ouch?” Peter let out, his one visible eye wide opened and glaring up at him.

“Ran into some trouble last night, Honeybun?” Wade asked him as the other man was actively trying to stir his head away from his hand, his neck twisting in a way that didn’t look too pleasant.

“Good morning to you too,” he replied grouchily. He then stretched on his stomach, _most definitely_ trying to kick him despite Wade’s legs atop his own. “I knocked into a car trying to stop that dude from stealing that motorcycle.”

“Did you get him?”

“Of course, it’s why I came back so late. But the dude did have a freaking motorcycle!” He slowly rolled on his back that he accompanied with some weak-ass grunts, and looking up at Wade, he whimpered, “my body hurt so much.”

One of his legs had slipped out of the blanket and gone up above the mattress, heading toward Wade, with either the goal to get it massaged or to kick him. Either way, Wade caught him by the calf before he could get poked in the eye by a big toe.

“Your aunt will start to think I beat you up,” Wade pointed out, letting Peter set down the back of his ankle on his right shoulder. As he was about to reach his fingers to the guy’s knee, they froze in the air in front of it as his eyes opened wide in panic and realization. “Oh, my god, does she think I beat you up?”

Peter, who had closed his eyes at the same time as he had joined his hands on his stomach, didn’t even bothered to open them up again when he countered with, “I don’t think you would be here if that were the case. Or even alive, for that matter.”

“Good, that’s good,” the Merc breathed out, nodding away as if the prospect of getting killed off by an angry May Parker for roughing up her nephew was something that other and inexistent version of himself rightfully deserved.

“I told her I was being bullied again. She’s more furious at the school than she ever was, but at least she’s doesn’t think I’m in a violent gang or that I started selling hard-core drugs or something.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s a… a good excuse, I guess,” Wade replied. Looking down at the bruise on Peter’s face reminded him a lot of the one he had the first night they had met. While that one had been much more faded at the time, it had also nearly been at the exact same spot and had been the product of an encounter at school. So yeah, it might not be the worst excuse he could have given his aunt. “That Thompson guy, he hasn’t been bothering you these days, has he?”

“No, he’s been avoiding me like the plague for weeks. Since, uh… Probably because, uh, you know… the…”

“Yeah. Probably, yeah,” Wade stopped him as he kept nodding again, this time in understanding. He couldn’t help the edgy laugh that escaped out of his mouth after. Peter still had no idea about him beating some senses into Flash Thompson’s thick skull, and Wade intended to keep it that way. Especially if he wanted them to avoid having another argument over his bad decision-making and for Peter not to finally have the realization of how fucking much he deserved better than him. “Glad so see bullies still have some respects for others.”

“I don’t remember if I ever asked you that, but did you ever get bullied when you were in high school?” Peter inquired, looking up at him again with a very and genuinely curious expression.

“I don’t know… I was the poor kid with anger issues and the dead mom, so, you know, not a lot of people wants to go near that with a ten feet long stick. I should probably check if I’m a serial killer or not.”

“Oh, man. I always thought of you as the jock type when you were younger. You just shattered that image I had of you.”

“Was it a hot one, at least?”

“Of course. You’ll have to show me some pictures, one day.”

“Can’t do, sweetheart. If I recall correctly, I used all of my school and family pictures as shooting ranges long ago. It was very cathartic for me, I have to admit.”

“Aw, man, I’ll just have to use my imagination, now,” Peter said, smiling up at him playfully and knowing precisely what he was doing while doing so.

Wade, a devilish grin forming at his lips, leaned down until he was laying on the mattress again and his face was hovering directly above Peter’s. Dropping a kiss to Peter’s mouth and slipping a hand under the blanket to run a hand on his naked belly, he whispered, “guess what I’m picturing right now…”

“I have some ideas… But I _really_ need to go pee, though.”

“Me, too.”

They only stayed staring at one another blankly for a few seconds before they both bolted out of the bed like the mattress had suddenly caught fire. That particular race to the bathroom was pretty unfair if you were to ask Wade. It was during those moments that he had to empathize with the criminals Peter kept coming across and talking to him about, because who the fuck could expect to win against a guy that kept shooting out thick fucking webs everywhere? In next to no time, Peter had locked himself inside of the bathroom, not, of course, without forgetting to slam the door directly into Wade’s face first.

“I still really hate them, I hope you know that. They’re fucking shit! They belong far up your ass!”

Peter’s only response was an exceedingly cruel laugh very audible through the bathroom door, reminding Wade yet again of just how much of a lousy winner the guy really was.

“And I hate you more!” the older man chanted loudly, his left cheek grazing the wooden surface of the door.

“Love you, too! Hope you piss yourself!”

Wade’s only response was a very manly and plaintive shout that almost sounded like one a wounded dinosaur would’ve been able to make, which he was pretty proud about, thank you very much. Even though he was getting cold just standing there in his underwear in the middle of the hallway, his feet stayed resolutely where they were right in front of the bathroom door.

“Okay, fine, you win. I’m gonna do it on the carpet.”

“It’s not me who’s going to execute you for that!”

Wade only indignantly retorted back, both hands now clutching at his groin, “just hurry your ass up!”

After an extended amount of time where Wade was left listening to the sound of the faucet running, the door finally opened. Though his contentment was somewhat subsided by the utter smugness on Peter’s face and the words coming out of his mouth.

“Did you need to use the bathroom?”

Wade didn’t bother closing the door behind him.

The house was empty apart from them. It had only taken Wade two days of staying at the Parkers to realize that Peter’s aunt was always gone for work at the first appearance of dawn, and also that Peter was the complete opposite, coming back from his ‘hero duties’ long after Wade had gone to bed.

“Did you wash your hands?” Peter asked him once he had joined him in the kitchen.

He was standing his back to him by the rattling coffee-maker and, from what Wade could tell, no longer had his web-shooters around his wrists. While he had been in the bathroom, it seemed like Peter had the time to put on a t-shirt and some pants, consequently ripping the older man away from getting the sweet ‘underwear shot’ he had hoped to come back to.

“Stop bothering me with that! I only forget _sometimes_.”

“Way too many,” the younger man replied, turning to lean his lower back on the kitchen counter and face him. The huge bags under his eyes were much more apparent under the bright kitchen light. “You got a bad case of frosty nipples.”

“Yeah, that happens when you get too ice-cold with me,” Wade retorted as he went over to the fridge. His head deep inside the thing, he continued, “you don’t mess with a man’s feelings in the morning, it’s basic human biology.”

The clock on the wall was nearly reaching the three in the afternoon. However, that detail didn’t stop the two men from having the breakfast food Wade had promised Peter when he had first mentioned the idea of him staying at his house for his Christmas break. The only festive decoration currently in the house was the Christmas tree in the living room – which he couldn’t believe had a gift with his name written on it from May under it - and it didn’t have that many ornaments on it either. He would have been suspecting the two Parkers of not being that into the holiday if it wasn’t from all of the happy stories from past ones May had recounted to him during various dinners and for how excited she had said she was for the one this year. But that had been before her husband’s death, so Wade was more inclined to believe the lack of holiday spirit around the place was for that precise fact. Peter, too, didn’t seem that much thrilled for that time of the year to roll around, even though it meant a two weeks long break from school and a lot more time to show off his superhuman abilities around town, _which he seemed to like doing very much_.

Wade would be lying if he said seeing Ben’s framed pictures around the house wasn’t giving him this weird, creepy feeling that often sent chills behind his neck. He couldn’t understand how the two could possibly do it on a regular basis.

There was the newspaper from the previous day still laying opened at May’s usual spot at the kitchen table. Wade leaned over Peter’s plate and his own to grab it, barely missing dipping his entire elbow in the other man’s coffee while doing so. He unfolded the newsprint in a swift move, but then stopped short on the front page. They had used the same picture of Peter as some of the other times, the best they currently had of him swinging around in bright daylight. However, it was the headline above it that caught the Merc’s attention.

“ _SPIDER-MAN ROAMS THE STREET, costumed freak continues to disregard the police_ ,” he read out loud, causing Peter’s eyes to shift curiously at him over his coffee mug, his eyebrows slightly frown. “They’re not really nice, have you noticed? Are there only fucking morons working for that piece of shit?”

Not that that headline was much different from the other ones. It was actually one of the nicer ones Peter had gotten, but that was probably what made it so frustrating. Wade didn’t bother looking at anything more and disregarded the paper in the middle of the table like it was one of the dirty rags back at his place that he had never bothered to wash in years. Peter only response was a weak shrug as he shoved a huge bite of yellow eggs in his mouth. Yet, Wade managed to catch the way his eyes would continue to shift down to the front page, indignation clearly inside of them.

“Do you mind the name?” Wade asked then, noticeably startling Peter out of his silent contemplation.

“ _Spider-Man_? Yeah, that’s alright. I hadn’t even thought about a name beforehand. I’m kind of glad I didn’t have to come up with one myself, to be honest.”

Wade scoffed, unconvinced.

“You were probably too focused on how your ass would look in the suit, right?” he said back, one finger repeatedly tapping the printed picture of him in costume on the paper in front of them. “They missed on so many better ones, though. Endless possibilities and the best they could come up with is Spider-Man? Sounds like the nickname you would give to a dude that’s _way_ too into his spiders and that got caught making out with one of them on the bus.”

“Knowing you, you have a list?”

“If you’re asking so nicely!” Wade let out eagerly, before clearing his throat with all the importance he could muster. “Itsy-bitsy, ‘cause that sounds cute, and you’re cute, and it sounds spider-ish. Roof-Boy, not the best, but you’re always up there. The Wall-Crawler, efficient ‘cause it could also be your porn name. You know how much I like to be practical. Captain…”

It was after maybe the twentieth names that Peter finally decided to speak up, which was a lot more than Wade had expected he would be able to get through. It probably had to do with the fact that he had been drinking out of his coffee mug the entire time and that it was now completely empty.

“You’re just saying nonsense, now,” he said, most likely referring to the ‘Ass-Webber’ one. Not Wade’s finest work, but he never pretended to be an expert.

“And the best one: Spider-Babe,” Wade finished dramatically, ignoring Peter’s comment completely and putting an entire slice of ham out of his plate and into his mouth. “I firmly believe that’s the one, actually. And now it will never happen!”

“Didn’t you said that one was reserved for you?”

“It was in a heat of passion. I don’t want to rob everyone from the truth, though!”

“I think I’m perfectly fine with Spider-Man,” Peter admitted as he got up from his chair with his empty plate and mug. Wade had to lean one arm against the back of his chair to be able to follow the other man’s movements around the kitchen. “And if I wasn’t before, now I definitely am.”

Wade offered him a one-shoulder-shrug of agreement before he got up as well and joined him in front of the sink.

“You’re not gonna go do your hero stuff, today?” he asked Peter. He couldn’t help the way his voice had sounded way too hopeful just there.

“No, actually, I thought we could wrap our gifts,” the young man replied as he was transferring everything from the sink into the dishwasher. “It’s already Christmas eve tomorrow, and we haven’t wrapped anything yet! My aunt already did hers.”

“What makes you think I have something for you?”

“You told me to specifically not to look at the bottom right of my closet.”

“You didn’t, right?”

“No.”

“Well, good for you!”

Peter had to fit his entire body in the closet to pull out the numerous long rolls of wrapping papers that were kept there all year and was being rotated every new Christmas that would come around. He dropped them all from his arms in the middle of the living room’s floor in a loud thud.

“I want you to use the Santa one for mine!”

“There’s three Santa one, you’ll have to choose.”

They decided to sit in the opposite direction so they wouldn’t see the gifts the other had bought for them. Though, the Merc kept being distracted by the loud and constant sound of ripping and crumpling paper happening behind him. It reached a point where Wade couldn’t ignore it anymore, and he turned his head to see what it was about. Peter had the tip of his tongue out between his teeth in concentration as he appeared to be using all of his limbs to wrap a medium-sized box. Yet, it very much seemed like all the of the arms and legs in the world couldn’t help that poor gift and the objects audibly bashing against each other inside of it.

“Have you ever wrapped a present in your life?” Wade asked him, staring at the guy’s pitiful attempt to get to the tape with no limbs left whatsoever for that task. _Should’ve really kept your web-poopers on, uh?_

“Could ask you the same thing!” Peter retorted, but it was kind of muffled by the corner of paper being held between his teeth now that he had switched it from his hand. Wade had been working on the gift they were giving May, and it looked just fine, especially compared to the mess in Peter’s hands. He was pretty sure the teenager noticed and was deliberately ignoring it, though. “And don’t look! Stop looking!”

“My aunt always did the gift-wrapping for me,” Peter conceded after a full hour later when they were both done and slouched on the living room floor, their back leaning against the couch. For some reason that was escaping the older man, Peter’s left forearm was more or less covered with the small transparent pieces of adhesive tape that were rejected during the wrapping process.

“I’m tired now…” Wade spoke up, giving a weak little kick to one of Peter’s leg that was the closest to him. It barely moved from the impact.

“How tired can you be, you basically had two nights of sleep!” Peter retorted, turning his head away from the opened TV, that was currently showing a very effective burger commercial, to give him a dirty look. “Did you lie about your age, perchance?”

It was pitch-dark outside, not that it was even six in the afternoon, when May returned with her hair in a loose ponytail and her waitress uniform still on, as well as a huge paper bag in her hands. It had a strong whiff of hot food that the two men could both smell from their same position on the living-room floor they had been for past hour or so. They were still surrounded by different-sized pieces of bright and various colored papers while a documentary - that kept bringing Wade to tears every few minutes while Peter was drowsing off beside him - on stray dogs finding families during the Christmas time was playing on the television.

“Hey boys, hope you don’t mind Chinese for tonight!”

Peter’s head snapped up from the couch cushion behind him with a worrying neck’s crack, his eyes opening wide and blinking a few times as he started looking around.

“Gimme some of that, Mrs. P!”

“That’s good, Dear, because that’s what I have,” May said, jerking the door shut behind her with her elbow. Peter quickly stood up to help her as her tower of a paper bag kept swaying left and right at every step going further inside the house.

While her nephew was taking care of that, May, as she was taking off her coat, looked over at the added presents under the tree, and asked Wade, “you’ve been doing some gift-wrapping?”

Pointing to the exact spot May’s eyes was already at, Wade stated to her, “no, Peter here actually tried hiding a body in festive paper.”

She scoffed as she hung her coat, before only saying back, “he’s never been good at it.”

Seeing that Peter was coming back from the kitchen and that he had most likely heard everything anyway, Wade loudly replied, “you know this could apply to anything ever… Oh, hey, Pete!”

His ass felt like a plank of wood when he finally got up from the floor too. He couldn’t make more than one step toward the kitchen before Peter’s hand, around his arm, stopped him in his track.

“Wait, Wade, you’re still in your underwear.”

“Oh, right!” Wade replied, but instead of going up the stairs to put on some clothes like Peter obviously wanted and was expecting him to do, he took another step to the other room where May had gone to.

“Unless you’re planning on doing a festive striptease to my aunt and me, go put on some clothes!” he hissed at his neck as both of his hands were on his back and forcing him into the other direction where the set of stairs was.

“What, you’re scared you aunt is gonna thirst over me and steal me away from you?” he teased Peter, twisting his neck backward to look at him. “She already thinks I’m handsome. She told me so!”

“Just go! Stop being a sloth!”

“I’m offended.” He sharply turned around into Peter’s face and, leaving a wet peck to his right temple, he told him in a low voice, “you’re still getting one later, don’t worry.”

He earned a slap to his ass as he went.

When Wade came back down, more dressed than he had been all day, May and Peter had already started eating and picking up at every hot plastic container scattered around in the middle of the table.

“We had breakfast two hours ago,” Peter ended up admitting to his aunt in the middle of dinner when Wade was mostly already done and hadn’t stopped obnoxiously moaning all the way through.

“Well, it doesn’t look like it!” she replied, giving Wade a weirded-out glance. He was pretty sure she had pretty much been avoiding looking at him until that point. Not his fault that he liked dumplings and fried rice so fucking much.

“Just ignore him. He usually stops after a while of no attention.”

Wade fell silent soon after, _which had_ _absolutely_ _no affiliation to Peter’s statement_.

“Peter never had someone staying over for the holidays,” May mentioned to Wade as the boy in question was stuffing his face with the rest of the yellow noodles.

“Not even Gwen?”

“Wade, I told you, it was ages ago,” Peter immediately jumped in to riposte, noodles still hanging off his mouth and going everywhere.

“I know, I know! Still in the picture, though,” Wade stated, as though it was the phrase to end all argument, giving a knowing look to May that clearly had no intention to give that one back to him. _I just don’t understand why I’m here and not her… Better get your head check, Peter, the dumbass_ , he then thought. Well, Wade thought he did until he saw Peter’s eyes rolling at him, because, of course, he heard and, of course, he would find his concern ridiculous. At least May didn’t seem to have taken notice of his unintended mumbling and was helping herself with another egg roll, but if she did, she didn’t make any mention of it, God bless her.

“I can still remember his first crush!” May let out for the both of them. “Do you remember, Peter? You kept going back home and talking about Harry all-”

“Harry? Harry Osborn?” Wade very abruptly interrupted May. Then, turning to Peter like he had grown another head out of his shoulder, he exclaimed, “your best friends are your exes?”

“Oh, I don’t think Harry ever knew, did he?”

“Yeah, and let’s keep it that way, shall we?” Peter retorted through gritted teeth. His face had turned fully scarlet at this point. It was usually the case when the three of them happened to share food together. It was as if May knew how much he loved how Peter looked when he got embarrassed, and she liked it as well. Or maybe she somehow knew they had to change the subject before Wade went on a sad rant about the man’s blonde friend. But then again, now she had added to him the urge to shoot himself with the images of Peter standing way too close to yours truly Harry Osborn to his already full plate of problems.

“Exactly! Better not give him some ideas,” the Merc insisted, pointing his forks at the two Parkers as though they had both shared their intention to do so, which really wasn’t the case.

“Seeing him now is making me feel so old. He grew so much!” May said, then. She had almost gotten as good as her nephew in the ‘let’s ignore Wade’s weird antics’ department.

“He’s cute, I guess. If you can even tell under all of that hair gel…” Wade went on, but then stopped. “You know what? Scratch that. You should marry him, Pete! We would be rich! Like, _proper_ rich!”

“Why do I gotta be the one sacrificing myself?”

“You’re the one who’s got a crush on him!” Wade retorted at the same time as a shiver began unpleasantly running down his back despite himself.

Peter, next, let out this drawn-out wail sounding so very aggravated and annoyed out of his mind that it brought his aunt, who had probably never heard that kind of noise coming from her nephew before, in a laughing fit. She had a hand covering her mouth, but her shoulders were visibly shaking with the force of it. It brought a warm feeling inside Wade’s chest, like Christmas cookies on a hot platter, and he knew it had done the same as well to the man sitting across from him at the table when their eyes crossed. They both knew a laugh coming from May wasn’t yet something you got to hear a lot these days.

“Look! She knows it’s probably unrequited, anyway!” Wade joked, driven by the snickering woman to his left while gesturing to her.

It wasn’t too long after before the two men found themselves in the living room again, this time on the couch instead of just leaning against it for no apparent reason. Peter, on his back, was instead leaning his entire weight on Wade as his body laid between his legs. One of the older man’s arms was positioned between his head and the arm of the couch whereas the other one rested across Peter’s chest and between both of the teenager’s hands. His head was propped a bit too high on Wade’s torso, and some of his hair was tickling his chin and teasing his bottom lip, but Wade quickly found that he didn’t mind.

“And then I said to him, I said: _you found my weakness - small knives_! And then I shot webs at him and stuck him to a wall! He couldn’t see anything! The police arrived, though, and I had to go. They’re not really nice, either, you know? But then I saw that guy trying to steal that other guy’s bike, so… I did that. I also ate a lot of pizza just waiting there for something to happen. Part of the job, I guess!” Peter related enthusiastically, playing with Wade’s fingers every now and then.

“Why do you get to do exciting shit all night and I don’t?”

Wade could only see the top of the other man’s head, but he could definitely feel it shifting against his chest as he was more than likely trying in vain to look up at him. Peter gave up right before he replied, “but you got your _thing_!”

“Yeah, but I haven’t really been…”

“You guys are still here?”

May had suddenly shown up in the living room, more or less saving the mercenary from a conversation he really didn’t want to have right now while doing so. She had changed out of her work clothes and had her glasses on as she was holding a book under her armpit. She seemed genuinely surprised to see the two of them still inside the apartment.

“What do you mean?” Peter questioned his aunt back, turning his head to the side which made the fabric of Wade’s sweater shift with it.

“I just thought you two would go out tonight, considering it’s a Sunday and you went to bed at barely ten yesterday.”

_Oh, sweet May… if only you knew what the fuck Peter is always up to when he’s out._

“You think we should go out more?”

“Essentially, yes. Doesn’t people your age do that? They go to parties and stuff?” The expression on the woman’s face drastically changed as she apparently had some realization of her own. A hand to her chest, she continued, “oh dear, now I look like the bad aunt who’s forcing you to go drink and…”

“We’re leaving the parties for you, May,” Wade told her, his head turned to her direction as well, causing her to scoff at him with wide reproving eyes. At least she didn’t look like she felt bad about her parenting skills anymore when he went to settle down on the seat next to the Christmas tree.

Wade’s arm tightened its hold around Peter and, with a sigh, he shut his eyes. The room had fallen silent, except for the low volume on the TV and the occasional ruffles of May’s pages, but he had completely tuned it out. Peter’s body was like a warm blanket over him. Plus, he smelled so good. How could he smell so good when Wade knew for a fact his last shower had happened two days ago – he knew, he was there – he honestly didn’t understand. His hands kept moving on his arm and playing with the skin of Wade’s own hand, and it was probably the only thing keeping him awake at this point. He was pretty sure he was sinking into the couch and was gladly letting it happen.

_So that’s what snug is…_

“Do you wanna go out?”

One of Wade’s eyes popped open at the low sound of Peter’s voice. Peter’s soft touch on his skin had stopped, and he had found a way to look up at him. His upper body had turned to the left slightly while his neck was twisting upward. His left cheek was flushed against his chest, which made it so that Wade could mostly see his face upside down. He could have been staring up at him like a creep for the last fifteen minutes for all Wade knew.

“Sorry, I would, but I already have a boyfriend,” the older man mumbled back, wanting to close his eye again. He couldn’t resolve himself to do it, not with how cute of a view Peter was offering from his position, and instead ended up opening the other one.

“Come on, why not?”

“What’s there to see outside?”

“Have you always been this indoor person, or am I only just discovering it now?”

Peter’s last words caused Wade to sit up straight, bringing the other man with him. He was frowning so hard with the disturbance brought by that discovery about himself that he could feel his forehead beginning to hurt. He couldn’t even pretend like Peter wasn’t right.

“I- I… Wow. I really am turning into an indoor freak. I’m domesticating!”

“That, you are,” Peter confirmed, sitting there in front of him and grinning at his distress like the little shit that he was.

“What have you done to me?”

“Let’s just go,” Peter said, leaving sympathetic pats to his stubble. But then, leaning closer to him, he whispered, “she’s right, we never go out together anymore.”

“Yeah, okay,” Wade complied, which conferred him a lingering kiss to his mouth _as if Peter didn’t think he had already won_.

As he fully got off the couch, the young man elbow came way too close from hitting Wade’s crotch for the man’s liking. He had a hand grabbing one of his own and pulling him up the couch. Wade let it led him toward the front entrance, but it was gone before they could get closer than three steps.

“Oh, wait! Lemme just grab something first!”

Peter was already running up the stairs before he had even finished his sentence, two pairs of eyes following him as he did. Wade gave May a shrug before walking up the stairs after him. When he got his room, he wasn’t that surprised to see a hopping Peter trying to pull up a pair of jeans over the bottom half of his bright-colored suit.

“You wear it under your clothes? You always do that now?”

“Most of the time, yeah, why? You never know when-”

“When crime arises?” Wade finished up for him, his voice going higher in a very vague imitation of what Peter’s usually sounded like. _Before puberty, maybe._ “Knowing the two of us, we’re going to run into my mother’s drug dealer or something.”

Peter was doing the same with the top, covering it under a hoodie he picked up from his clothes-covered floor.

“You know, it’s only making it harder for me to take the clothes off of you when we eventually end up at my place later.”

“We’re not gonna end up at your place.”

“A man can have hope.”


	25. On the Second Day of Christmas, My True Love Gave to Me: Two Ice Cream on a Stick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, reptiles have a knack for ruining dates.

“ _Wham!_ did a Christmas song?”

“Of course, what do you think? They were the best!”

“It’s alright,” Peter replied, indifferently shrugging as though he hadn’t been humming and shaking his head to it only a few seconds prior.

“Can’t believe this thing works,” Wade mumbled like he did almost every time the guy’s _Sony_ branded cell phone ended up in his possession. “Glad 2012 is nearly over!”

Wade’s head was down looking through songs, as the both of them were sharing Peter’s black earplugs. There was a thin layer of snow on the pavement as tiny snowflakes had started to do the same with their jackets and Peter’s blue beanie. It wasn’t that cold, and the lack of wind made it quite pleasant. It was only reaching the eight in the afternoon, and it was dark outside, but it was barely noticeable under the tall and nicely decorated street lights and the various lit shops that came their way. Some of them happened to be right in the process of closing early, because of the Holidays, yet there were a lot of people still hanging around. He knew there was also a skating rink and a river not too far away from there.

“I think your aunt is already tired of me squatting at you guys’ place,” Wade brought up, his eyes staying resolutely down at the screen, trying not to sound as bothered as he felt about it. But really, he couldn’t blame her for getting tired of him, the twenty-something hanging around her house all day. He would have kicked himself out on the first night if he had been in her place.

“No, she’s not. It’s just a difficult time for her, you know?” Peter reassured him. Though when he spoke again, it was in an awfully bitter tone that compelled Wade to look up at him. “We just, uh, never had a Christmas without my uncle. Not even when my parents were around. Sometimes, they would leave me with my aunt and uncle to go to some work trip of theirs… But _he_ ’s always been there.”

Not really knowing what to say without insulting the guy’s dead parents too much, Wade wordlessly grabbed Peter’s hand and brought him further down the long and busy street where a giant Christmas tree could be seen at the end of it. There was a pool of people in front of it, walking around taking pictures and eating from food stands. They couldn’t hear much from the earplugs, anymore, given the, while not that loud, festive music coming from whoever knew where and the din of chatters. Wade pulled it from both of their ears and put it, as well as Peter’s phone, inside of his own pocket.

Wade lead the other man closer to the giant pine, near to where a dad had his small daughter perched on his shoulders who appeared to have gotten her hand on a golden star decoration and was possibly trying to steal it. It would certainly not be noticeable if that was the case since the whole tree had been decorated with so many multicolored lights and sparkling ornaments that it hurt to look at it for too long. And yet, Peter’s head was up at the sky, trying to see the thing in its entirety, while Wade stood there watching him. His hand felt warm in his. His cheeks had turned a lovely pink from the soft cold while some strands of his hair sprinkled with snowflakes were springing out of his beanie at his forehead and the back of his neck. The vibrant lights were reflecting in his brown eyes and made it look like they had their very own constellations of every color inside of it. Pretty.

 _Eww_ , Wade thought as he caught himself smiling like a fucking dumbass with a two days old crush. Or was it more like a very starry-eyed wife in front of her too-good-to-be-true husband? A little bit of both, he supposed, if that made any damn sense. It sure felt like that.

“C’mere!” he let out at Peter as he let go of his hand to grab his shoulder as though his fingers had turned into one big claw.

Wade pulled the phone out of his pocket again and held it in front of their two faces. He could see Peter’s crazy looking smile, showing every single one of his teeth, on the screen before he decided to turn his head at the last second and laid his tongue flat on the younger man’s left cheek. The picture came out looking a lot like the one Peter already had as his wallpaper, only a bit more festive by its background made of way too dazzling spots of beams behind their heads. And yet, it didn’t give up the fact that they were standing in front of a giant-sized Christmas tree at all.

While Wade was putting the cell phone away again, this time in his back pocket, Peter was wiping his cheek with his palm with an adorable smile, before smearing the minimal amount of saliva that had gotten on it on the front of the older man’s jacket.

After a remarkably cold waft of wind that made some of the people around them tightened their scarf around their neck and pulled their coat closer to their figure, Wade declared, “my toes are cold as hell.”

“You deserve it!” Peter replied animatedly. Their eyes had simultaneously gone down to the Merc’s feet whose grey socks were very visible through a pair of dark blue crocs. “It’s okay when you wear them inside, but not out. And in _winter_!”

“Who said that?”

“Me. Also this guy over there, this lady here, and probably those kids over there,” Peter, who had taken hold of Wade’s arm, told him as he pointed to each, very clearly unaware of the pair, as he mentioned them. “Basically, everyone who’s wearing actual shoes right now.”

“I have socks on,” Wade defended himself. “You can’t tame me, anyway. I’m a wild horse.”

Peter chuckled, still looking down at the man’s feet and his now wiggling toes.

“I hate them as much as you hate my web-shooters,” he then whispered to Wade, releasing his arm while still moving closer to him so he could hear.

“Did they harm you in any way?” Wade asked, taking the voice he thought the annoyed looking police officer standing by the tree and eying on the crowd would have. “That’s curious, ‘cause I don’t ever recall them ever shoving and sticking you to a brick wall or smashing something in your face. If they did, we should call an exorcist _right now_.”

“I’m the one who we should question for domestic abuse,” Peter replied, his face cringed up as he picked some lint from the other man’s fuzzy collar.

“Could be worse. Could be a comic book. But I’m sure May would’ve had killed you already too if that were the case,” the Merc pointed out. Peter nodded in acute agreement, seemingly for that last part. “Isn’t it weird that you’re way stronger than me? Do you think you could kill me if you were to ride my face too hard? I think I found how I wanna go.”

“Anyone could do that.”

“Yeah, but I want it to be you, Papi.”

Peter snorted judgmentally at that, but still affectionately patted the taller man’s cheek twice. It was at that same moment that a child’s piercing cry resounded from not too far away from the two of them. Peter jumped and, for merely a second, it looked like he was about to shoot one of his synthetic webs at the source of the loud noise before obviously deciding otherwise upon seeing the cone of ice cream upside down in front of the little boy’s feet. The two men, as well as some other people, watched him as his mother grabbed his hand and walked him away from the ruined sweet, his cries starting up with renewed vigor. When Peter turned around to face Wade again, his shoulders appeared tenser, and there was a quick flash of embarrassment inside of his eyes.

“It’s fine,” Wade assured him, one hand reaching out to massage the young man’s junction between his shoulder and his neck. He made sure his thumb was touching the collar of his spandex suit under his hoodie, by his collarbone, when he said, “no need to rip your shirt off just yet, Spider-Boy.”

Just looking at the little boy’s blue and purple balls of ice cream getting abandoned on the pavement was making him hungry, and looking around at some of the food stands around the opened space certainly wasn’t helping with that. There were the usual hot-dog ones, the hot cocoa, and donuts, but his mind was stuck on the fucking gelato and sorbet cups everyone was waving under his nose. One stand was bright red and had pink stripes all over it, and had probably been the one the toddler and his mother had come back from. The inscription ‘Hand Dipped Ice Cream’ on its front in massive white letters, though, was what probably sealed the deal for the Merc.

“I want ice cream.”

Peter jerked his head around to look in the same direction as he was.

“Weren’t you cold five seconds ago?”

“That’s part of the thrill!”

“Okay,” Peter chuckled. “Which one do you want? It’s the least I can do after dragging you out here.”

“Oh, I love you, surprise me!”

Peter came back shortly after with two good-sized ice cream on a stick in his hands. One was a light pink while the other one looked like vanilla under all of the rainbow sprinkles layered on it.

“I got you the eggnog one. I knew you would wanna try it,” Peter said, as he held out the second one to him. Wade was pretty sure his entire face had lit up like the Christmas tree behind them. “Told them to add sprinkles.”

Wade took it as he let out a sharp shriek of ravishment that made a few heads turned to their direction, while Peter didn’t even bat an eye at him.

“What’s yours?” Wade asked, staring at the pink goodness between the young man’s teeth.

“Strawbs,” he answered in a mouthful.

Wade nodded approvingly and took the first bite out of his desert as well. The texture was smoother than he thought it would be, but it was so cold on his teeth that he barely even got the flavor of it. Though, he could swear his mouth was now lingering with the same taste it had after a good sip of rum.

“Wanna taste?” Wade asked after taking another decent bite out of his ice cream. Peter shook his head at him before doing the same with his own, but Wade waved it in front of his face and insisted, “try it!”

He indulged him and took a good lick of it and, even before he had swallowed it down, he merely said, “yeah, no.”

“You want a better taste?”

Peter looked at him questioningly. His expression only changed to one of pleased recognition when Wade’s face started looming closer to his until they could feel each other warm breath on their mouth. While his right hand was tediously trying not to drop the short stick, and that without leaning the ice cream on the other man’s sleeve, Wade buried his free one inside the pocket of Peter’s jacket and used it to pull his entire body closer to his. He quickly recognized the weird and bumpy fabric in a ball inside of there underneath his fingers as his mask. Wade squeezed it hard into his fist without overthinking it as he pressed his mouth against Peter’s half-opened one. He placed two feathery kisses there before opening it wider with his own and going in deeper. Peter’s sighed inside of his mouth as his tongue started leisurely running over his. Wade had hoped it would taste a lot more of strawberry, but it was pretty good, all the same. Peter’s free palm had laid itself flat on his pec over his t-shirt, going with the intoxicating heat he could feel spreading there, but Wade had no idea where his ice cream had gone.

After maybe a minute or two, the Merc didn’t know (all he knew was that his fingers were the only parts of his body that were still cold as melting ice cream had started dripping on them), an idea sprung into his mind. He took the mask out of Peter’s pocket and deliberately put it inside of his own. Naturally, Peter noticed (not that Wade was doing anything to hide it anyway) and pulled away from the kiss to look down between them at the red mask now grotesquely sticking out of Wade’s jacket of nearly the same color.

“Spider-Man isn’t going anywhere,” Wade whispered as an explanation into his ear.

“Um, sounds quite menacing.”

“Well, he’s all mine for the evening, isn’t he? Ditch the tights just for one night,” Wade said, pushing the flashy piece of clothing further inside of his pocket. Seeing the uncertainty in Peter’s eyes, he pressed further, “come on, baby, it’s almost Christmas! All criminals are sad during the Holidays. Most of them are probably crying in a shed and snorting cocaine out of their fucking mind having their own version of a white Christmas.”

“All the more reason to do a quick patrol _later_ ,” Peter replied, his palm vaguely, or just very slowly, running up and down the taller man’s chest.

His eyebrows raised slightly, Wade replied, “patrol? Okay, soldier.”

“You understand what I mean.”

“Loud and clear,” he replied, trying to keep his deception out of his voice. He looked around at the mass of people moving around them, and let slip, “I’ll have to get used to sharing you with the whole city.”

Peter switched his pink ice cream to his other hand and licked the strawberry ice cream that dripped from the wooden stick off his fingers and, again, smeared it on the front of Wade’s jacket. At this rhythm, May will feel the need to sneak it into her batch of laundry again very soon.

“You make it sounds like I’m going around and sleeping with thousands of people every night. It’s quite different.”

“They’re taking a chunk out of ya with them,” Wade said softly, bringing his fingers up to Peter’s bruised cheek and ended up frowning a little at the way his head ever so slightly pulled back away from them.

“I still have all of my limbs.”

Despite all of that, Peter had made no attempt at getting his mask back.

“Yeah… Actually, lemme check about that…”

“What?”

Wade shoved his ice cream on a stick between Peter’s fingers, who looked thoughtfully confused, before taking hold with both hands of his belt. He pulled at it and looked down at the limited space he had freed between the young man’s jeans and his pair of boxers. Or was it his suit? He didn’t recall Peter having bright blue underwear before they left… _Yeah, that’s definitely his suit. Properly glued to his wiener at this point._

“Petey? Little Petey are you still there?” Wade spoke up, his voice going higher than usual and undoubtedly addressing the guy’s crotch for anyone that had the misfortune to be standing beside them. He could feel more than a few stares on him, including, of course, Peter’s one on his nape. Ignoring all of that, he lowered his head even more toward Peter’s groin, and explained, “I’m concerned about him, you know? I think he’s been missing me.”

Peter, both arms stiffly extended out with both of their ice cream at their extremities, was wiggling his hips trying to get Wade to let go, which looked a lot like he was making a terrible attempt at belly dancing. One guy with excessively long dark blonde hair in desperate need of a good brushing very nearly got Wade’s eggnog one permanently stuck into them. It looked like he was about to give Peter a _kind_ and very _thoughtful_ piece of advice on how to properly hold stuff before he stopped right in his track and gave them one of the dirtiest looks Wade had ever received in his pathetic life.

Wade abruptly straightened up, his joins tightening around Peter’s belt and his eyes glaring right into the stranger’s, he exclaimed, “what? A dude can’t talk to his boyfriend’s dick in peace?”

“Sorry!” Peter called out, but the guy had already gone to join some friends while not so quietly whispering something that sounded a lot like complains about freaks running around New York. Peter had successfully peeled Wade’s hands off his pants, which implied shoving melting ice cream into his mouth, and brought them away from the busy middle of the street and closed to some fence that had been pulled up for the Christmas tree. It was there that, as though they were never interrupted, he told Wade, “not when my aunt is around, I told you. It feels weird!”

“Yeah, it fucking does.”

The look on the 18 years old’s face told Wade that he was more than likely thinking back at the same moment that he was. It had been the middle of the first night of his Christmas break, and also the first one of Wade’s ‘stay’ at the Parkers when the entire house had been cast in darkness, and they hadn’t been able to fall asleep. Then, Peter’s hand had slipped inside of his boxer while his tongue had done the same to his mouth. Though, Wade would forever remember the way the teenager’s eyes had grown three sizes upon hearing his aunt’s slow steps in the corridor as she made her had made her way to the bathroom. His fingers on him, as well as both of their bodies, had gone entirely still apart from their eyes as they had waited for the woman to go back to her bed, too scared to make any noise that could alert the woman of what they were doing. _The worst kind of edging is always the aunt_ _one. The end is always a victory in itself._ He remembered almost biting off at least two of Peter’s fingers in the guy’s attempt at keeping him quiet.

It had also been the only night since then that Peter had spent the entire time in his bedroom and not gone swinging around in the city away from his bed and, thus, Wade in it.

“But it’s not like you’re even there to warm up the mattress, to begin with…” Wade mumbled under his breath as he licked the melting excess off his ice cream. Faced with Peter’s blank stare, he resumed with a lot of feigned enthusiasts, “again, this Christmas, I’m learning the power of sharing!”

Perhaps opening his arms like a stage actor was overdoing it since he only wound up doing exactly what Peter had been trying to avoid by pulling them aside. The back of his hand hit the back of someone’s head, a teenage girl whose ponytail ended up exceptionally more lopsided than it was before passing by them.

“Fucking people everywhere, I swear!” Wade grumbled indignantly once he had sent some vague apology to the startled teen. “They’ve never seen a Christmas tree before? You would think Michael Jackson’s motherfucking corpse is gonna be playing here!”

“We could go somewhere else. I think I know where we could go.”

“If it’s another one of your special rooftops, don’t count me in. I’ve worked way too hard for my ass to turn flat like this.”

“It’s better than that. I think so?”

“Love the confidence!”

The both of them had finished their ice cream by the time they reached a more secluded area away from the noises and people. It would have been fine by Wade if Peter’s idea had been to stay here, hidden under some trees by the edge of the cold river where he had already thrown their tiny wooden stick in. The only clear thing they could hear anymore was the cracking of the frigid grass underneath their feet as Peter led them closer toward the water. While the moon was nowhere to be seen up in the pitch-black sky, the way the lights from the lit-up bridge far off in the distance, as well as the one from the building’s windows to the side, were reflecting on the water’s surface was almost beautiful in a way. He was almost expecting a naked couple or two to spring out from behind one of those trees from how removed and isolated that spot was compared to the crowded street only a short walk away.

Despite all that, it didn’t seem like it was the destination Peter had in mind at all since he sent Wade the same hand motion as he did everytime he would choose for them his _very_ unique mode of transportation over traditional walking. Nor was the ‘fucking under the night sky’ fantasy Wade had just invented, no doubt. Sadly, he knew Peter wasn’t the kind of guy who would let his pants being pulled down behind a bush. _Way too classy for that, I suppose,_ he thought. _My fucking luck._ Wade could imagine the rainbow magically springing out of the sky between the snowflakes… _He probably missed the most enchanted setting blowjob he could’ve ever had._ _His fucking loss._

“Do you think eggnog flavored lube exists?” Wade asked while hopping onto Peter’s back and wrapping his limbs around him like it was second-nature, which, weirdly enough, it pretty much was at this point. As one would have thought, Peter exceedingly loved using those web-shooters of his, even during the times when they had only two blocks to walk. The land had apparently gotten too dull for him. Wade would probably be the same if he had been the one who had spent days on end working on tiny pieces of tech that had kept on buzzing and shooting white filaments at his face until he got it right.

Peter turned his head at him only to show him a look of pure disgust even worst than the one he had given him when Wade had proposed doing it in one of the fitting rooms inside a quite busy shopping mall as they were out buying May’s Christmas gift. It was also at that moment Wade realized public sex, along with outdoor sex, were probably something Peter would never let happen. _Maybe after a few years of regular mattress sex, he’ll turn around eventually…_ _Perseverance is key, kids._

“I truly hope it doesn’t,” Peter retorted before facing ahead at the river again.

“I hope for _you_ it doesn’t,” Wade replied. He looked over Peter’s shoulder as he shot a web at the only visible building on their left, and grab at it with both hands. Before he could sway them away, Wade made sure to ask, “shouldn’t you be wearing your mask for this? You always do that.”

“It’s dark, and it’s not that far anyway.”

“How do you know nobody’s watching us right now?” Wade said. “I don’t think there is, but there’s probably a lot of perverts that would love to see our piggyback business. Imagine the headlines. The sex scandal!”

“I would know if there was. I would sense it,” Peter replied, as serious as a guy about to leap above a freezing river with a long white string while having a bigger man wrapped all over his back could be.

“Oh, so that spider-sense of yours isn’t tingling at all right now, Spider-Babe?” he questioned, smiling, one of his arms going down from around Peter’s shoulders to pinch his side a few times through his jacket and hoodie. Those might have only been what he was grasping at since Peter had no reaction to it.

“Nice way to put it,” Peter said before jumping and pulling hard at his web at the same time, finally making them take off into the air.

Wade couldn’t see very well, but he was pretty sure that was Peter’s shoes he could hear sliding against the water underneath them. It was only for that first swing, but it was pretty cool all the same. He quickly had to lock his ankles around the younger man’s calves as to not lose his crocs to the river below. _Petey would love that._ The previously soft and slow-falling snowflakes were now sharply hitting them in the face. The wind, which they were going against, was ruffling their clothes and had gotten much chillier, and the Merc took that as an opportunity to sneak his cold hands further down inside the front of Peter’s hoodie until he could get a feel of his suit underneath. However, Wade never really needed an excuse to hug Peter’s back like a vise and practically snuggle into it, which he did just then, given that he had fully embraced the fact that he had pretty much morphed into this clingy creature at this point, like a massive growth coming out of Peter’s spine. It was also going with his plan of not falling off, which had worked pretty good so far.

As it turned out, scream-singing into Peter’s ears always made it much easier for Wade to forget the very long and painful death that would await him if he were to loosen his grip on the man, especially right now as Peter kept them above the probably freezing-cold water by swaying between the building by the river. He wasn’t exactly afraid of height, but it wasn’t like he was seeking it every chance he could get. Still, Wade could fully understand the thrill Peter could get out of it. Would the guy even be aware he wasn’t on his back anymore? _That might be a leap, but I think he would notice the sudden lack of groping and of about 190 pounds being lifted off his shoulders. Good for him, finally, right?_ He was always suspecting Peter of purposefully swinging way too close to stuff only to make him all the more riled up. Maybe he liked having Wade’s _sweet_ voice screaming broken-up songs into his ear and his sides being practically crushed by his thighs, the creepy bastard. Or perhaps Peter was still not that good at this whole thing, despite the constant practice he had been doing all December, and that he was always good at everything he did. _Or he’s always been trying to make you fall off._

Peter was getting them closer to the bridge, while it still being at a fair distance. The whole thing kept changing colors as it was programmed to do during the Holidays. It took Wade some time to realize, after he finally decided to look away from the thing, that Peter wasn’t leading them toward it in the least bit, but instead to what looked like a wharf under construction. The entire place appeared to be deserted, and its beatdown warehouse looked nothing appealing, hell, the mercenary was ready to bet there was a drug cargo inside of it merely after taking a glance at it from that height. The bridge’s structure had only just turned purple when Peter’s feet touched the ground with a loud thud on top of one of the platforms, which saved them the energy of going up a very long and rusty ladder that Wade would much rather jump all the way down rather than take in any circumstance.

Wade got off Peter’s back, one foot touching the platform’s ground at a time. You could see a part of the city in the distance from the reasonably high position that they were, but Wade didn’t have the time to contemplate the view. Without missing a beat, and without letting out a single word, he saw Peter stepping forward only to jump on top of one extremity of the metallic rail around them where he perfectly balanced there with the soles of his feet. Wade, perplexed, watched from as further back as the platform would let him, leaning his elbows against the rail on the other side, as Peter started shooting a long string of one single web between two cranes very high above their heads. Despite de darkness, it quickly became apparent that he was building a human-sized spiderweb for some yet-to-be-explained reason.

Had Peter lost his mind? _Does he think he’s an actual spider now?_ Wade asked himself, not wanting to intrude just in case. _Has he planned for us to mate up there and eat me up afterward?_ Actually, maybe he should be considering interrupting after all.

“Pete, what the fuck are you doing?” Wade questioned, much snappier than he had intended.

“I’m making a web so we can chill,” Peter explained briefly and all matter-of-factly, still busy with his nonsensical creation. Add a maniacal laugh and an over-dramatic pose, and he would look the picture perfect of a mad scientist, which Wade very much believed the 18 years old could achieve to be if he would give it the effort. After all, he did already have the hair and the brain for it.

Peter didn’t stop until he had joined the two cranes together with a net large enough for two men of their sizes and then some to do a star pose side by side without having to touch each other at all.

“And why the fuck would you do that?” Wade questioned next.

“I’m trying to be romantic, you asswipe!” Peter retorted back at him.

He was rolling his eyes when he turned to look down at Wade. The teenager didn’t seem to comprehend how strange that whole thing was. As it had been someone else bringing him out here at this time of the day, the Merc would have felt like he was about to get murdered and would have already threatened them with a knife against their throat for an answer of some kind.

“You don’t need to impress me anymore, you know, sweetheart?” Wade said. “Romance is all gone now. I saw you poop the other day.”

“You didn’t have to barge in,” Peter groaned, squatting down, his arms casually leaning on his knees as his feet were still perfectly steady on top of the rail. “But is it really? Already? I thought I could give us another three months before that happens.”

If Peter were to fall backward, or if Wade was stupid enough to push him, he would be having a free fall less than enjoyable before ultimately ending up with a cracked skull and as a very handsome corpse floating above the water.

“Give it three years, and I promise you we’ll be having our second wedding and our fourth kid,” Wade replied, stepping closer toward the other man and grabbing the cold metallic rail on each side of him, the inside of his arms subconsciously pressed themselves onto Peter’s legs as supports he didn’t really need.

“Very presumptuous of you to think I would want four kids,” Peter said, meeting the other’s eyes without wavering. His head still had to be tilting down for him to be able to do that.

Wade’s face was situated so close to Peter’s joined hands that the latter could decide to poke him in the eye at any moment and it could easily get passed as an accident.

“Well, you look fertile enough,” Wade remarked. He followed it with a whisper made in an overly-explanatory tone, a hand cupping one side of his mouth. “Spider-eggs.”

“Wouldn’t you be the one having to carry the eggs?”

“You disgust me.”

Peter was laughing when he suddenly shot up a single web up at one of the immense cranes above their heads, not quite but still very close to his self-made spiderweb. He boosted himself with the soles of his feet and a firm flick of his wrist before disappeared up, leaving Wade with a gust a wind to his face and the beginning of a nasty torticollis. Wade observed with squinting eyes as the young man began to crawl like an insect inside the big net and settled down on it like it was merely a conventional hammock in someone’s backyard. He had joined his ankles together while doing the same with his arms behind his head and seemed to be looking down at him as well.

“You’re coming or what?” Peter called out.

Although he couldn’t see him very well from such a distance, added to that darkness, Wade was pretty sure he had a shit-eating grin on his stupid face.

“Asshole!” the Merc called back.

Like the perfect piece of shit idiot that he was, Peter started loudly chuckling again. Despite that, he didn’t wait more time before sending a web Wade’s way. It grabbed itself around the back of the one hand that had stayed on the rail and pulled him up a lot smoother than what Wade expected. His entire body dangled in the air for a good thirty seconds before he got close enough to be able to grab onto some of the strong synthetic webs beside Peter’s right leg. Peter assisted him some more by taking hold of his hand and pulling up at it, which greatly helped.

“You’re so lucky I don’t have a deadly fear of height,” Wade said once he had gotten his whole body on the thing. It didn’t sink that much under his weight, which he took as a good sign.

“Wouldn’t that be part of the thrill?” Peter replied, undoubtedly trying to mock him, but he managed to sound way more like a drunk Neanderthal man than him. If that was what he was going for, it was uncanny.

“What’s this place? Did you kill a villain fisherman and took his lair? ‘Cause it sure does look like you did and we all know it’s not exactly your style,” Wade said, awkwardly shifting on his back trying to settle down in somewhat of a comfortable position without falling forward. “Was it more of a Scooby-Doo or a DC situation?”

“I passed by here one time, and I thought: it’s ugly and looks very dangerous, Wade would love this place!” Peter explained, taking the same laid-back position that he was before Wade had joined him, but now with his neck fully turned to the side to look at the older man.

Wade could grant him that one.

“You could build a sex swing with that thing!” Wade exclaimed, delighted by the idea, using his middle to make the spiderweb under them bounce up and down.

“You already ruined it.”

They fell silent for a few minutes after that. They had their arms crossed behind their head in a very similar fashion as they were looking up at the pitch-black, non-starry sky, snowflakes occasionally hitting them directly in the eyes. All Wade could hear except his and Peter’s breathing was the leisure movement of the river fall below them, it too looking like a distant and purely black entity from where they were. He could perceive the bridge at the corner of his eyes, now green, occasionally changing color.

Wade could admit he may have judged Peter’s initiative a bit too soon. Of course, it wasn’t as comfortable and warm as laying down on the Parkers’ couch inside of their home, but it had its charm. It felt similar to be resting on a soccer net; only that particular net felt a hundred time sturdier. He could feel it digging into his back, and he had to shift a few times before he could find a way not to have any jabbing painfully at the top of his spine. Wade could very well see himself falling asleep here, not that he would, but he had enough faith in Peter’s capacity to catch him before he could roll all the way down. It didn’t mean much since he was confident that he could snooze off pretty much anywhere without feeling the need to do so with a blade between his teeth if the guy was there to keep an eye on him. Like a rescued dog dropping its guard down and feeling safe enough to fall asleep around its new owner after a while.

 _Better not tell Peter that or he’ll get some wrong fucking ideas_ , Wade reckoned. _Yeah, let’s pretend the guy doesn’t already know he owns your balls._

He didn’t know if having this much trust in someone else was a good thing or not.

“I should probably get a job in the new year,” Peter spoke up out, breaking the silence, his eyes still opened up at the sky.

It startled the Merc out of his thoughts.

“But you’re already so fucking busy!” Wade replied, turning his upper body in Peter’s direction, all the fingers of his right hand grasping at two of the large threads between them for support. “When am I gonna be able to see you then?”

“You would find a way to get me fired,” Peter said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You already have some practice with that.”

Wade chuckled but quickly sobered up when he heard the way Peter’s voice sounded when he opened his mouth again. Like something sour had gotten in his mouth.

“My aunt won’t be able to pay everything on her own for much longer. Insurance money runs out fast.”

“I figured this all out, Debbie Downer! I found the perfect plan that I’ve wanted to share with you for a while! Hear me out,” Wade said, enthusiastically, “I marry your aunt – hear me out! – I marry May, she gets half of my money, and the woman finally gets everything she deserves!”

“And what would that make me?” Peter pronounced, turning his head to him again, looking half amused and half utterly down with him and his stupid ideas.

“You can call me step-dad if you want,” Wade said, grinning at him, “or daddy for short.”

“You try so hard to make me say it, but you know it won’t happen,” Peter said, turning Wade’s grin into a pout. “So, in your scenario, I go and get with Harry, then?”

There was a short silence where Wade contemplated the young man’s words.

“Let’s set them up together instead,” he eventually replied. “He’s much richer than I am, anyway.”

It took a few seconds before neither of them spoke again. Peter appeared to be pondering about something. Something that was undoubtedly more important than Wade’s fake plan. He seemed to be perhaps evaluating the best way to word his thought or might even be wondering if he should do it at all. Wade stayed in the same position, waiting, tempted to start biting down on his tongue before he couldn’t refrain himself anymore and say something that would only derail Peter’s thoughts…

“Speaking of that…” the teenager finally began to say, “you haven’t been talking much about your _work_ , lately. Like, at all. Why’s that?”

Peter’s arms had gone down to his belly where he started playing with his fingers; his pupils dilated due to the darkness like Wade’s most likely were as well. His gaze kept shifting everywhere in Wade’s face; his nose, his ear, his stubble, anywhere but his eyes. It was how Peter usually got when he wasn’t sure if he could address something with him. Not like when he would mention his uncle, but like there was a part of him that was scared Wade was going to shut him down. Wade couldn’t remember that happening in the past or even what could the guy ever possibly say that would make him do that…

 _He knows you can be violent_ , it occurred to Wade, not exactly for the first time, but it still managed to make his guts sinking inside his stomach. _He’s scared he could end up getting choked to death for pushing your button too much._

It compelled Wade to move closer to the other man, momentarily forgetting about how the two of them were currently laying who-knew-how-many feet above the ground, like trying to soothe himself and ask for forgiveness to his unknowing companion. His fingers were no longer closed around some of the sturdy webs between them but were now on the exposed inside-pocket of Peter’s jacket, his face now more or less hovering over his. Peter didn’t appear to find it unusual or too oppressive, though, did look the slightest bit confused as to why it was taking him so much time to give him an answer.

“I know you don’t like hearing about it,” Wade eventually replied, evasive, still.

 _He wants the truth._ It was. At least, Wade thought it was the reason why Peter was never directly asking him questions about it like he just did.

“Well, I’m asking now,” Peter said, calmly, glancing down at his own hands. “I don’t need to know all the details. I just… I feel like there’s something you’ve been keeping from me. Not like a secret or something, but more like you’ve been avoiding telling me some stuff. That’s extremely worrying since you got no filter whatsoever.”

Peter’s beanie had slid a bit too far up his forehead the last time he shifted his head, and it took a lot inside of Wade not to just go for it and fix it. _Fucking focus, for once._ It didn’t really work, and instead of answering the younger man’s question, he said, “isn’t it weird that you chase after criminals all nights only to go back to your criminal boyfriend? Have you ever thought of the irony?”

A line appeared between Peter’s brows. _Probably trying to contain his frustration with you._ Although, Wade wasn’t the only one choosing to ignore the other’s remark.

“I talk about what I do as Spider-Man all the time, why should it be different?” Peter asked, finally locking eyes with him.

_Tell the truth. Don’t you fucking lie…_

“I know you think it’s wrong,” Wade replied, simply.

“Yes,” Peter said, making the mercenary’s breath stuck inside of his throat even though he already knew, “but it doesn’t necessarily mean I want you to feel bad…”

“Well, too late for that,” Wade interrupted. “How am I supposed to come back and tell you about my fucking day when yours is all about rescuing people from burning buildings and saving shops and banks for robberies? ‘Oh, that’s good, honey. Oh, what about mine? I made a thousand bucks by slitting the throat of some guy and then I had a Good Ol’ fucking Sex on the Beach with the criminal you’re gonna have to arrest tomorrow. What’s that, honey? You’re leaving me and taking all your stuff with you? Who are you calling on your way out? The police? What a surpri-’”

“Wade,” Peter cut in, ending the older man’s tirade, “the ones you go after are bad people. That’s the difference I see.”

“And what does Spider-Man think of that?”

“ _I_ love you, anyway. It doesn’t change anything about that,” Peter retorted, making a face like he had the realization of how corny he sounded just then. _That’s it, embrace your role as the corniest super-hero, baby._ “I’m not gonna go and arrest you if that’s what you’re scared of.”

“No, it’s just that… I just – I don’t know – I guess I don’t want you to multiply the bad impression you have of me until that’s all you can fucking see. Especially after what happened with _Carradine,” Wade admitted._ Peter winced at the mention of the man who murdered his uncle. _“I know I’m a killer too, and I don’t want you to look at me the same way you look at the ones you have to look at through that silly mask of yours.”_

_“I don’t think I could,” Peter said._

_Give it some time_ _, the Merc wanted to say but decided against it._

“It’s okay if you go and do your own _thing_ , and talk to me about it after,” Peter continued. “I knew about it before, you know? I learn pretty quickly about it, when you almost shot me over cold pizza, remember?”

“I wasn’t gonna do it!” Wade re-joined, his mouth opening in a large smile. “You can’t shoot such a pretty face like that. Not with a good price on it, at least!”

“Thanks,” Peter said, deeply sarcastic, although there was the beginning of a smile at the corner of his lips. “I don’t miss that job.”

“I know. If only saving kitties off trees and all those other stuff paid, right?” Wade replied. But then he continued, fervently, “they fucking should, though. You’re doing most of the pigs’ jobs!”

“I wouldn’t go as far to say that,” Peter chuckled out, his right hand leaving his other one on his belly to wrap itself around Wade’s upper arm. All of the previous apprehensions were gone on his face, replaced by that _smile_ of his with all of its weird crinkles, and Wade could feel his face leaning down toward it despite himself.

But then, Peter opened his mouth again.

“You know, you can be a pretty sensitive guy when you want to.”

Wade scowled, taken aback

“If you say that to anyone, I’ll… uh…” he trailed off, unsure if ‘I’ll kill you’ was the most appropriate thing to say after the particular conversation they just had.

“You’ll what?” Peter asked, sardonically.

“Fuck off,” Wade muttered back.

“Oh, man, you missed such a good opportunity then!”

“Fuck you! I meant fuck you!”

“Too late!”

Peter’s joyous laugh was contagious, and the small wrinkles that had formed at the corners of his eyes became all the more apparent. Wade could see the dark river down below through the squares of webs beside Peter’s head. Maybe Peter wouldn’t mind if he made a move on him up there. After all, he was the one who brought them here in that creepy slash romantic setting, and it wasn’t like there could be anyone walking on them, not like some bushes or a fitting room…

“Isn’t it hot? Me opening myself to you?” Wade asked, only half-joking, as he lowered himself even more and went to enclose his right arm around Peter’s waist. His face two inches away from Peter, who looked at him like he knew exactly what he had behind his mind, he whispered, “I hope it is for you ‘cause, for me, it feels like getting dicked raw.”

_Yeah, that will send him a clear message._

Peter was rolling his eyes at him when Wade entirely covered his chest with his, yet they quickly closed in recognition when Wade’s lips pressed themselves against his for the second time that night. The older man could feel Peter’s smile melting away against his mouth to kiss him back, and a cold hand closing behind his neck and making the short hair there raised at once. It clashed greatly with how warm his body felt underneath him and his hot breath mixing with his, and it sent this big chill traveling down his nape. He ran his tongue over Peter’s slightly cracked bottom lip until it felt smooth on top of his own, Peter’s tongue chasing after it.

Way too soon, the Merc vaguely felt some of Peter’s eyelashes brushing against one of his cheeks, as though he was opening his eyes, and the next thing Wade knew, his back was laying on the large spider web again. His eyes were only just snapping opened as Peter was already walking over him to get a better look of the horizon.

“Uh, fucking rude?” Wade let out, looking up at the back of Peter’s head.

“Something’s happening,” Peter whispered, seemingly to himself, his eyes staring ahead over the river.

“What?” Wade retorted, sitting up sharply. Peter’s feet didn’t waver for one bit on the threads beneath them, nor did his head turned to look back at him. “I thought we were having a moment…”

As though Peter had predicted the time, although Wade knew it was because he had heard it before him, or rather _sensed_ it, the colored light on the bridge cut off altogether, and it was immersed into darkness. Despite that, you could still clearly hear increasing honking and, more noticeably, the unified panicked exclamations and screams of some of the citizens presently on the bridge.

“What are the odds of that?” Wade exclaimed, baffled.

Without a single ounce of hesitation, Peter started undressing, disregarding his regular clothes where it balanced at the top of the spider web until all he had on was his red and blue suit. He was missing something crucial, though, and they both knew it.

“Wade, my mask,” Peter called out, looking down at the older man expectedly with a hand extended toward him, “quick!”

Wade’s fingers fetched inside his jacket’s pocket where, sure enough, Spider-Man’s mask still was in a ball. They hesitated in there a second too long, and he hoped Peter was too preoccupied with the rabble back on the bridge to understand why or even noticed in the first place. Wade didn’t want to do it. He felt selfish and gross, but he didn’t want to give Peter back his mask. Why did they have to take him away from him? Yet, he knew if he didn’t, Peter would take it off him and leave anyway, all respect he had for him more than likely going off with him and being replaced by fucking disgust. It was what brought Wade to pull the mask out and to hold it out to him; not the terrorized screams in the far distance, nor was the worrying car sounds going off, it was the fear of losing Peter altogether.

_He should throw you down in the river on his way._

Soon, Peter’s beanie had replaced his mask in Wade’s hand, and it was covering the teenager’s face, its big lenses looking right at him. Much more unstable than his companion, Wade stood up, more or less expecting him to let him onto his back like they always did.

“Stay here!” Peter told him instead. “I’ll be right back!”

“Stay here?” Wade repeated loudly, incredulous.

He watched Peter as he made the very few steps toward him as effortlessly as if they were walking on the flattest floor in the entire city. Wade almost felt embarrassed for having to hang onto some of the synthetic webs to stay as upward as possible.

“Wait here,” Peter instructed him, his voice ever so slightly muffled by his mask, but still firm.

Wade’s eyes went wider as spandex hands suddenly grabbed him by both cheeks and pressed a quick peck that felt exceptionally odd on his mouth. it lightened Wade’s spirit just enough to slap the guy’s spandex covered ass, right before Peter was about to use his web-shooter and make his departure, and say, “go get ‘em, tiger!”

Spider-Man vanished into the dark without sending him another word, leaving Wade all alone and unbalanced on top of the artificial spiderweb Peter had made for them.

The first thing Wade did was trying to reach for the crane with the triumphant image firmly in his mind of himself sliding off the thing and landing on the platform like a charm. It was less than successful, and he was almost happy that Peter had left so he didn’t have to witness him stumbling on his feet, and watch with him one of his crocs sliding off his feet and making its long dive down into the water.

“Oh, great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is the last Christmas chapter I swear


	26. On the Third Day of Christmas My True Love Gave to Me: Three Bags of Homemade Brownies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve and Christmas day at the Parkers. AKA Wade thinks he is in constant competition with everyone else over dear Peter. AKA Wade grasps the concept of family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, this one is so long  
> Christmas can officially be over now!

Wade was starting to firmly suspect Peter of leaving him stuck up here so he wouldn’t try to do something that would more than likely fuck up whatever that he was doing on the bridge. _Or he knew you would be safe here and out of harm… Honestly, that’s more like the kind of shit he would do_ , the man thought indignantly and decided to ignore it completely.

It had been a few minutes, maybe ten or fifteen, since Peter had left him alone on his self-made spiderweb, and he couldn’t keep still, no matter how many times he had almost fallen off the thing. Wade wasn’t able to see very well from where he was. That was regardless of how hard he would try to hang as far as he could go by the web, which consequently was the reason why there had been so many times already where he got so close to finding himself making a spectacular flat on the water like his long-lost croc. Despite that, he had known the exact moment Spider-Man had entered the scene when cars, instead of diving from the bridge like mere toys into the cold river, started springing safely on its side held, by what Wade could only assume, was Peter’s self-made webs. It wasn’t very long before one of the cars caught on fire, standing out from the rest, as burning pieces came plunging in the water. Wade couldn’t help but wonder if Peter was currently inside of it, of course, trying to save whoever had the misfortune to still be inside the vehicle. It was at that moment that Wade judged that, maybe, he had given up on trying to get down a bit too soon, and he tried again, very nearly tumbling over the sturdy net face first. Once again.

_Wouldn’t it be stupid, though, if he comes back and finds you dead because you couldn’t take being left behind to sit around doing nothing?_ Wade asked himself. But then it occurred to him… _How could you help anyway? What have you got? The dagger on the inside of your pants? What good would it do?_ Wade, as though someone else had spoken those words into his ears, heatedly sat down in the middle of the giant spider web, almost certainly looking like a sulky child.

It was like back when Peter had stuck him to that brick wall so he couldn’t intervene after getting his hands on his uncle’s killer, and he had to wait for him to come back not knowing if he was going to do so at all. Yeah, Peter had knocked the guy out cold, but anything could have happened. In Wade’s mind at least. It was driving him crazy, not being able to see what was going on perfectly. If only he could see him, at least he wouldn’t have to guess if he still had all of his limbs or if he hadn’t gotten all of his hair burned off or even if he was still alive anymore. It was much easier watching him go out his window and imagine him waiting around and eating churros on some roof for hours and saving a lady or two from petty robber _that didn’t have any fucking guns on them_ rather than having him risking his life right in front of him. The worst of all was that he couldn’t do anything about it. Was he watching Peter’s grave live?

_You’re basically personifying the ‘helpless girlfriend’ trope, right now, how does that make you feel?_

Wade put Peter’s discarded beanie over his head with a loud, frustrated groan, covering his eyes with it so he couldn’t see anymore, _not much of a difference,_ with that terrible mix of helplessness and anger gnawing at him from the inside. His anger wasn’t destined at Peter per se, that he could tell, but more rather toward the entire fucking world, which was nothing new. Perhaps it was better that he wasn’t able to see too much of what was going on so he wouldn’t have any face to put on his irritation.

While the Merc was pretty much blindfolded, he knew that the loud rattling he could hear coming far off above him and the strong wind that came with it could only be from a helicopter. Oddly enough, he got a lot more startled by the short vibration coming from his back pocket that came ten or so minutes later. One finger holding up the beanie away from one of his eyes, he tentatively looked ahead to the bridge and, sure enough, two helicopters were hovering above the scene. The flaming car was nowhere to be seen anymore, making Wade’s breath get stuck in his throat when he noticed. The faint vibration went off again, coming from Peter’s cell phone that he had kept on him, and he quickly retrieved it. Maybe Peter had borrowed someone else’s phone and was trying to reach out? The time on the lit-up screen told him that it had already been almost a full hour since he had gone. It was accompanied by, not a text that could have been from Peter himself, but one from his aunt, asking if the two of them were alright. She was probably watching the news live.

_But what if he fell with that burning car?_ How would he even know? _What am I supposed to tell May, then? Do I flee the city or do I take the easy route and jump?_ ‘YOUR NEPHEW IS FINE’ surely wouldn’t do, Wade reckoned as he erased the words for the second time. He settled on telling her they were safe and ‘at Wade’s’ and put the phone away, before pulling down the beanie with force over his face again, hearing a tear as he did so.

Wade had been sitting there; his arms crossed over his chest while his left foot kept fidgeting and pushing down the thread underneath it, furiously humming the same song for the third time in a row when the one he had been waiting for finally decided to show up.

“The version by Celine, I’m guessing?” Peter’s pleasant voice came from so close to Wade, managing to startle the crap out of him.

“How can you assume I would be thinking of anyone else while singing _Alone_?” Wade replied, sitting up straight and hurriedly pulling the beanie off his face. He must have looked like a fucking mental patient. “Come on, Petey.”

Wade let out the prolonged intake of breath he had been holding. Peter was squatting in front of him, leaning his forearms on his knees as he held his mask between his hands. His suit was so bright that it was obscuring all other stuff in Wade’s vision. There was a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, but no additional cuts or bruises on the rest of his face. His brown hair was sticking up everywhere like they always did after he would take off his mask after a relatively long period of time. For all Wade knew, the guy could have been standing there creepily staring at him for the last twenty minutes.

“That’s what I said!” Peter replied, his eyes catching something as he glanced down at him. A laugh was threatening to pierce through when he said, more like a statement than a question, “you lost a sandal?”

“You didn’t?” Wade muttered.

Wade, having to peel his eyes off the guy’s broad joyful smile, took a closer look at him. There wasn’t a single scratch visible on his suit, from what he could tell, but he did have that lingering smoke scent about him. _Maybe he’s squatting like that to prevent his guts from falling out, what do you know?_ Wade leaned forward, one hand extending toward the other man. Peter’s eyes followed his fingers as they gently moved his arms apart so they wouldn’t hide a good part of his stomach anymore. There was nothing there as well, the fabric of his suit as impeccable as ever, though his chest was moving fast in sync with his hard breathing.

“You were gone for a fucking hour and a half!” Wade let out, a bit more forceful than he had intended, but it was like the relief he felt only made the frustration of the last hour coming out.

An awkward chuckle came out of Peter’s mouth, the look he gave Wade a mix of guilt and nervousness.

“I know, I would have come back a lot sooner, but I ran out of web fluids on the way there, and I didn’t have my wallet, so I had to run half-through the entire city, and I think a lot of people filmed me on their phone and, uh, yeah… um…” he babbled on as he moved one hand around, before stopping altogether. “I ruined our date night, didn’t I?”

“What the hell happened back there?” Wade asked, instead, more than ready by now to finally have an answer to it.

“There was this _thing_ on the bridge pushing around cars!” Peter replied, his entire demeanor changing to one of agitation. “It was real big, too big to be human, and I think – I think it might have looked like a giant-sized reptile.”

Wade’s eyes narrowed. There was a beat before neither of them spoke again.

“Did you breathe too many gas fumes while you were there?”

“No, I swear there was that thing!” Peter defended himself.

“So, you got into a fight with a ninja turtle?” Wade asked, very skeptical. “Which one was it?”

“I didn’t! It went away!” Peter retorted.

“And you didn’t follow after it?” Wade interrupted.

Peter rolled his eyes as he let out a frustrated sigh, unmistakably tired of the older man’s questions.

“There was this little boy stuck inside of this car. His dad couldn’t save him…”

“Did you manage to?” Wade inquired, immediately regretting it.

Peter’s eyes lit up and the corner of his mouth quirked up as he was undoubtedly thinking back at that moment.

“I did,” Peter answered, simply, and Wade knew he was going to tell him all about it later.

Regardless of everything the young man had told him and of the fact that he had gotten here, and that without missing any limbs, it seemed like Wade’s brain wouldn’t let him forget about his frustration that had built up inside of him. So of course, he was going to lash out on the only person present, which consequently also happened to be the only one he didn’t want to be a total dick to.

“Your aunt texted us. To know if we were okay,” Wade said, in a dry tone. Peter’s smile faded. “What was I supposed to do if you never came back? Make my fucking nest here and make your aunt guess?”

Peter looked away from him, contrite, and subtly moved away from the hand Wade was surprised to realize had stayed on one of the 18 years old’s knees.

“Are you trying to guilt trip me?” Peter asked with another awkward chuckle. “If so, it’s working.”

“Fuck,” Wade said, feeling a mortified flush crawling up his neck. “That was just, uh, pretty scary, you know, being stuck up there.”

“Why? You’re not scared of height, are you?”

He looked perplexed, as though he was looking back at all the moments that could have told him that.

“No, it was just the – shit – the _possibility_ of you, you know _possibly_ dying out there,” Wade stuttered out, trying to be as offhand as possible without much success.

_What the fuck have you done to me…_

“Nothing happened, really,” Peter explained, shifting forward so he could rest a reassuring palm on one of Wade’s thighs. “It was pretty uneventful all things considered. Could’ve been much worse.”

He offered him a smile that Wade believed he surely didn’t deserve.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t come back,” Wade let out as he sprung forward, narrowly averting to hit his forehead against Peter’s.

He saw a quick flash of Peter’s comically widening eyes before his arms went around his shoulders. That hug was a very clumsy one, with two pairs of knees in the way and Wade’s back painfully hunched forward. Wade quickly rectified that situation by pushing down until his entire weight was laying on top of the other man. Peter, his back now pressed to the synthetic webs and his face the only thing that stayed unhidden behind Wade’s body, didn’t protest, but he did wriggle a part of his arm free to give him some unsure pats on his lower back. _A cry for help, maybe?_

“You could’ve always jumped,” Peter joked, his breath hitting the older man’s cheek with each word.

Wade ardently nodded in Peter’s shoulder, and he could instantly tell the younger man hadn’t been expecting that kind of answer given that he went stiff underneath him.

“Wade, babe, I was joking,” Peter scolded him, a trace of worry behind his tone.

Snowflakes kept creeping down the back of his collar and appeasing the flush of shame lingering on his neck. Wade closed his eyes to the dark and slow-moving water below and buried his face a bit more in his boyfriend’s neck and hair, barely holding back the content sigh menacing to come out of his mouth. He was expecting him to get creeped out and push him off any second now.

“Me too.”

They both knew it was a lie, and if Peter was pulled off by it, he didn’t make any move to show it, nor did he say anything of that sort. He could have very easily pushed him off, but he didn’t, and he just stayed there like the pavement to Wade’s melting pile of garbage on a hot summer day. _He must be as fucking crazy as you then. Or maybe that gas fumes theory is still holding on and making its effect on him._

“You’re the most confusing person ever, I swear to God,” Peter spoke up after a short while of silent pats on the back and a lot of nuzzling from Wade’s part.

“Amen, Sister.”

He could feel the ball of Peter’s mask squashed between the two of them at their lower stomach. Peter’s hair smelled of smoke and was tickling his forehead and his nose. Wade’s legs had long moved to straddled the younger man’s so his feet wouldn’t go overboard the edge of the spider web and be slowly pulling him downward. Him only wearing the suit made it so that Wade could feel every moving muscle and protuberant bones of his hips, ribs, and collarbones under him. The Merc had wondered about it for a long time before this, but he was almost certain it would feel like the same thing to be laying on top of a giant breathing condom. He was tempted to mention that exact thing to Peter, but he knew that would mean a premature end to this weird and surprisingly comforting embrace since the guy didn’t like it at all when he would compare his dear suit to a condom, go figure why.

“My arms are dead,” Peter mentioned another minute later, breaking the silence again. Wade could then vaguely feel them wiggling under him. “You think you might have had enough, or…?”

“Am I crushing you, perchance, sweetie?” he asked, fully knowing the answer as he purposefully brushed his cold nose a few times against the skin behind the smaller man’s ear and tightened his knees around his thighs.

“Yeah, yeah, a little,” Peter replied with a breathy laugh that went right into Wade’s left’s ear. “I’m quite happy for the resting time, though.”

“Right, yeah,” Wade said, remembering the boy’s words from before. He leaned away from the boy’s shoulder to stare at him two inches away from his face. “Did you really run this whole way just to come back for me?”

“Pretty much, yes,” Peter replied, confusingly staring back at him. “I told you, no?”

“Oh, Petey!” he cried out, some genuine sentimentality slipping through his exaggerated play of it. It pretty much felt like he had reached the emotional level of an eight-months-pregnant woman at this point of the night, and he was ready to own it. _Never letting anyone persuade me to go outside ever again._ “That’s so fucking sweet!”

“Oh, boy, there we go again,” Peter exhaled.

Wade squeezed his arms even harder around Peter’s shoulders and thrust his hips down, only that last one for the hell of it. An overdramatic lamentation came out of Peter’s mouth, but yet again, he didn’t make a move to free himself. _Definitely crazy._ Wade’s cuddling session was only cut off a few minutes later after Peter voiced his realization that they should probably get going before they got spotted by one of the helicopters, and consequently, after Wade admitted in return of how fucking tired he was of that place. He silently watched as Peter started picking his regular clothes from the top of the net, and continued to do so as he put them on over his suit like he had done back in his bedroom.

Peter gave the idea to slide down one of the cranes, and Wade’s face might have told everything Peter needed to know about what he thought of that.

“I’m not gonna drop you,” Peter had affirmed him.

“I know,” Wade had mumbled back, letting the younger man wrap his left arm around his waist and let him break one of the basic instincts he had learned very early in life, that is, plunging toward a platform made of metal without even some kneepads.

It ended up being pretty fun. Fun in a ‘bad and way too short rollercoaster’ kind of way. By the time they reached civilization again, the wind had picked up, and snow was obscuring their vision and slapping them in the face. As much as Wade was trying to hide the discomfort of his shoeless foot having to step on freezing-cold and slightly snow-covered pavements, turned out he wasn’t very good with that since he pretty quickly ended up hopping around while loudly complaining about it.

It was after he almost fell over for the third time on some slippery ground that Peter offered him to take him on a piggyback ride.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but no, thank you,” Wade replied, confidently. “I’m a man. And real men don’t care if their socks get cold, and wet, and uncomfortable, no matter how emotionally damaged they get from it.”

Peter didn’t grant him any answer other than a judgemental look as he halted in front of him and, to the mercenary’s great surprise, threw him over his right shoulder like the basic bag of potato that he was to him.

“You big baby,” Wade heard Peter say as he continued walking, only holding him by the ankle of his croc-less foot.

He held his head up and turned it toward the back of Peter’s, and asked, “where’s your noble steed?”

“Up your manly ass,” Peter retorted without slowing his pace.

“But where would a brave knight be without his noble steed?”

They were lucky nobody currently was on the same street as them, even though Wade wouldn’t know for sure since all he could see now was the moving snowed pavement and the back of Peter’s jacket. Although, there definitely were some cars driving by them judging by the occasional moving flashes of light happening on the ground and by that drawn-out honk Wade had chosen had been for the two of them.

“You’re my favorite mode of transport,” Wade admitted as he saw two pairs of shoes passing by them side by side on the sidewalk, “but you really need a CD player in there.”

Not that he had any dignity left in him, to begin with, Wade could see the advantages of being carried like that. His belly was starting to hurt a little, but he no longer had snow coming at his face, and he didn’t have to use his legs anymore, which was always a good thing.

“Where are we going, now?” he inquired after he realized it was something he should have asked in the first place. “An abandoned powerplant? Another warehouse you want me to see?”

“To your place,” Peter answered simply.

“Oh? But you said we wouldn’t…”

“I changed my mind.”

Wade had gotten himself comfortable after a few street-turns by leaning his chin into his palms and wiggling his legs up and down from time to time, which would have looked much better if he had worn a dress, but who knew this incongruous night was going to end this way. He was able to see a few people walking on the same sidewalk and send a salute to the ones whose curious eyes would linger on them a bit too long.

“I bet you, you can’t carry me all the way up to my room,” Wade chanted as he moved his feet around in the air even higher.

“No problemo, materino!” Peter replied with an accent vaguely resembling Ned Flanders’, before moving his hand from the older man’s ankle to the back of his knees.

His grip was so firm that Wade couldn’t move his legs that much anymore, but it didn’t prevent him from doing everything he could to sabotage the younger man’s chance at winning. He thought he might have succeeded after more or less managing to pull his pants down, with the suit as well, but Peter had been way too quick at pulling them up and smacking his arms from behind, all with the same hand.

“We should ask everyone who’s looking at us right now to pay us real money for the entertainment.”

He could tell when they reached his neighborhood just by the smell of it. It was achieved not without getting a few more car honks along the way, which the Merc was still insisting were for them. They ended up entering his apartment’s door with Wade’s face looking like a bright red tomato and Peter’s right arm having more difficulty than usual to lower back down.

“I won!” Peter announced while massaging his arm in the middle of the living room, as though Wade hadn’t been there the whole time. “So, what’s my reward?”

“This!”

Wade had taken off his red jacket and thrown it over to his couch (and watched it immediately fell on the floor behind it with a plop) the second his feet were touching the ground again. So, the effect was much better when he went to dramatically unzip his jeans and let them drop down to his ankle, revealing his lack of underwear this whole time. However, that wasn’t at all what caught the 18 years old’s eyes.

“You taped it on the inside of your pants?” Peter asked, incredulous, talking about the knife stuck to the side of one of Wade’s thigh with two pieces of grey duct tape. “How would that ever be convenient?”

“I’m trying different stuff out.”

Wade, a few pieces of hairs now missing from his leg, watched as Peter gave him the traumatizing sight of bursting into laughter while looking down at his naked lower body.

The sex that followed that night was pretty great, but before it was that, it got weird pretty quick before the two of them had realized they were trying to ‘make it up’ to the other, like a match of naked wrestling gone wrong. The fact that Peter still thought he had something to make up for him was what lead Wade not to protest too much when, the next day, Peter told him that he was going to go out to see where that creature he had seen leaving the bridge could have gone to. _Because you, dumbass, made him feel like he should apologize for going out there and saving people from diving to their death… A little boy, for fuck’s sake!_ The only compromise Wade had asked of him was that he wouldn’t leave the house at any point on actual Christmas day, which represented more of a challenge when it was about Peter and his stupidly oversized sense of righteousness.

“What’s the worst that could happen? Someone will be able to get into their own car without an idiot webbing them to it for no reason? Wild.”

“I’m never telling you anything again!” Peter had said for, no doubt, the fiftieth times in the last month.

While Wade was finding it quite depressing to be wandering around the Parkers’ empty household on Christmas Eve, the conversation they had had on their way there about their lack of decorations given him a good prospect for the day, although it had already been nearly two in the afternoon.

“Why? You didn’t decorate your own apartment,” Peter had returned the question to him.

“Nobody even put one mistletoe up, what’s up with that?” Wade had asked him back as they were walking across a street, his gloved hand in Peter’s bare one and both feet inside warm, sturdy boots.

While it hadn’t been snowing anymore, the sidewalk was even more slippery than last night, and the sun was so bright that it hurt to look at the bright white sky and at some of the piles of snow on people’s front yard that hadn’t yet melted off. Some houses had their Christmas lights on, but their colors were barely noticeable due to the harsh sun.

“Why would we have that up?”

“Why not?” Wade pushed on.

“I mean, why bother?” Peter replied, looking right ahead at the street he had been living on for the past thirteen years. “My uncle used to be the one who put all the decorations up. Super early, too.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I would give everything to see them kiss again, now,” Peter had then sighed resentfully.

Wade knew now that a part of the reason why Peter wanted to go out today of all day to follow some impossible trail from that giant reptile from the bridge was precisely related to Ben and his absence in the household on Christmas Eve. Also, the fact that his aunt had to take on an all-day shift and her presence was non-existent as well probably helped with that decision. Wade had wanted to shake Peter as he went out in all of his Spider-Man gear so the sadness he had been able to see on his face before he had put on his mask over it would come out. But he solely ended up giving him a smooch goodbye on his spandex cheek and closing the window behind him.

Wade took it as a mission to decorate the place before Peter and May come back and cheer up the two of them. He started by the closet where Peter had retrieved the wrapping papers the day before. It happened to be a gold mine, and soon, his hands were covered in gold and silver glitters and he was surrounded by tinsels, two mistletoes, boxes of excluded ornaments for the Christmas tree and an entire miniature village that was supposed to go under it with the sheet of fake snow that went with it. He even found a baby Jesus among the tiny houses and other villagers as he spread them all out around the living room and kitchen area while trying his best not to give them any names ( _inconclusive_ ). A lot of the porcelain houses stayed on the floor since he kept being distracted by the shimmery tinsels catching in eyes and the gold and silver ornaments pocking out of the boxes. He jungled with all of that for a while, getting his hands and face even more plastered in glitters, and expending his friendship with Gary the tiny village priest and Germaine the Baker as the hours rolled by. Wade’s sparkling appearance fit perfectly with the small hat he had put on his head, which was clearly meant for the broken mechanical Santa found at the bottom of the same box. Its thin white elastic band was digging at the bottom of his chin, but he liked the way it sat on his head.

Once every wall had a bit of everything, and the Christmas tree looked like a real one instead of a sad naked excuse of one, Wade went to explore the living room closet again to be sure he had stripped it of the tiniest of festive things. He didn’t know what he was expecting when he started pulling on some red piece of garment stuck under a huge box labeled as Easter stuff. It was a Christmas stocking. Its fabric felt old underneath his fingers, as though it had been in the Parkers’ household for a long time. Two others had slid off from underneath the heavy box when he yanked it off. They didn’t have any names written on it like he had seen it in movies, but it was awfully apparent to whom each of these belonged to. Or used to. He glanced fondly at the smaller one out of the three on the closet floor before letting them stay hidden there and closing the door again.

The Merc thought about going to the basement to search for some other stuff to decorate with, but before he could get all the way down there, he heard the front door opened above him and a woman’s surprised exclamation coming right after. He walked back up the few steps only to find May and the green tinsel he had placed above the door an hour prior wrapped around her head.

“What is that?” she let out, a hand grabbing at the plastic item. A look of recognition appeared on her face once she got in front of her face and not covering it, though there was still a lot of confusion in her eyes when they roamed around the rest of the room.

“I had _a lot_ of free time!” Wade told her, smiling from ear to ear. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s… a bit intense,” May kindly replied as he was taking off her coat and her scarf while Wade was putting back the tinsel over the door. “Is Peter here?”

She looked even more confused about her nephew’s absence than she was about the sudden and dazzling makeover of the entire interior of her house.

“No! He went out! To get some, uh – you know – groceries,” Wade explained. “Milk, I think? I drank it all, eh.”

May nodded unconvincingly, as she carefully stepped over the tiny porcelain houses on the floor. According to the clock, which now had a big deep red bow on top of it, Peter had been gone for nearly four hours. Had he found what he was looking for? He had let the television play the news all day, but while there had been a lot of coverages on the incident from last night, nothing new or significant like that one had come up yet. Wouldn’t they be talking about it if there was another sighting of a massive scaly guy, like Peter along with some of the people that were interviewed on TV had described? Peter had texted him once since he went out, telling him he hadn’t found anything, but, despite that fact, he had yet to come back.

He took his cell phone from his back pocket. The screen lit up to a new message from Peter dated from about twenty minutes ago. He instantly regretted being next to the guy’s aunt when he opened it. Not because of its risky nature or something like that, no, it was for an entirely different reason. All it was, was a close-up picture of Spider-Man making a thumb up with, so close to his face, a blurry mess of what Wade could only assume was supposed to be a moving cat. He had no idea how he could possibly explain away receiving private pictures from Spider-Man under the name ‘Petey-baby.’

“Uh, actually, I think I’m gonna go call him… right now…” Wade babbled, as he precipitately shut off the touchscreen.

He didn’t wait for the woman’s answer before going up the stairs and closing Peter’s bedroom door behind him. To his surprise, Peter’s phone only rang once before he picked up.

“Hey, handsome, I’m on my way,” Peter spoke up on the other line. He didn’t sound distressed nor troubled at all, in fact, he sounded more bored than anything. “I helped this lady find her cat. It took, like, two hours, but the little fudger had gotten on some other person’s roof. Five streets away! Dude, she was so happy, I think he’s the only one she has for the holidays. And she gave me so many brownies!”

“Good!” Wade replied, earnestly. Peter was fine, and he had something to make his excuse more credible. Perfect. “You just need to go back and find some milk, now!”

“What? I’m literally two seconds away…” Peter trailed off. There was a short silence before the young man spoke again, “and, I’m here.”

Wade turned to the closed and only window of the bedroom the very moment Peter’s red and blue figure appeared with a thud on the other side of it.

“No, no, go back!” Wade said into the phone, even though he was stepping closer to the window. He shooed him away with his free arm for good measure. “I said you went out to get some milk, and you’re gonna go get some! Think of the brownies!”

The older man could hear Peter from his cell phone as well as from the other side of the glass when he dryly retorted, “are you serious?”

Wade could tell his eyes were rolling at him under his mask.

“Add some eggnog while you’re at it!” he added, but Peter had already hung up. He was pretty sure it was a middle finger Peter gave him before he disappeared again, but he wouldn’t swear on that.

When Wade came back down, May, still in her work uniform, was standing in the middle of the living room. She appeared to be watching the TV where a news reporter was standing outside; the bridge Wade had come to know very well the previous night in good view beside her head. They had been going over the same shits all day.

“ _The police are currently speculating about the possible criminal involvement of the masked individual commonly referred to as Spider-Man, who, according to multiple witnesses, was present at the scene of the incident on Williamsburg Bridge last night around…_ ”

Annoyed, Wade let himself fall onto the couch with a grunt, the small Santa hat on his head slipping down slightly to the top of his forehead. He had his arms crossed behind his head, one of his legs resting up against the top of the backrest while the other one was still touching the floor. He studied the back of May’s head, as though expecting to learn from it exactly what she thought about the incident and, especially, about all they were saying on Spider-Man. She probably believed all the bullshit, who could blame her? It was all they ever said about him.

_Those ungrateful pieces of rat shits… The guy is over there saving some cat from some roof and y'all think he’s some kind of criminal mastermind?_

There were three short knocks on the front door and the next thing Wade knew, May was leading the perfect American family inside the house. Wade watched with round eyes as children kept following after the other from the entrance hall. The shiny green tinsel ended up hanging off Gwen Stacy’s head as she stepped behind who Wade was now realizing was the girl’s three smaller brothers. Their parents, a couple with an appearance that seemed way too important for the place, was complaining in a conversational tone to May about the snow that had started falling on their way here, the woman handing her a big Tupperware. The man looked really familiar, although they all did, from the funeral. And like that time, they were all wearing their Sunday best clothes.

“Oh, fuck me,” Wade mumbled under his breath, his arms slowly moving from under his head.

He had been way too slow and gobsmacked by American Gothic walking up in here that it had been way too late to run and hide, especially now that pretty much all of those mostly blonde heads had turned to him all spread out on the sofa like some cheap erotic Santa that had been paid to greet them.

“Where’s Peter?” the mom kindly asked May.

Before she had a chance to answer, Wade jumped off from the couch and walked over in three huge steps toward the newcomers.

“No, no, it’s me, Mrs. and Mr. Gwen,” he said. “I know, I know, I’ve changed a lot since the last time you’ve seen me. Puberty hits you hard like a topless grandma on a public beach, and next thing you know, you look like sexier Green Lantern.”

They all looked at him funny, even May ( _traitor_ ), except for the smaller and younger of the boys, who had already spotted the tiny village on the living room’s floor and some of the characters Wade had left on the fireplace.

Wade turned to him and instructed, gravely, “hey, kid, be careful with Gary. He’s had enough of a tough life already.”

The boy nodded at him in response, looking more confused than anything, before wordlessly sitting in his nice clothes in front of the miniature houses with a few of the porcelain figures in his hand. One of the other kids, the only one with brown hair, went to join him on the floor.

“Wade, where’s Peter?” Gwen asked him, visibly unimpressed.

“He went out.”

“Out? But I warned him we were coming soon?”

Wade shrugged, and just said, “you know him.”

Gwen appeared to be expecting him to elaborate, but when she realized he wasn’t going to, she went to sit on the couch. Her parents, as well as May, followed after her and did the same, her dad briefly but weirdly eyeing Wade as he did so. The man hadn’t spoken up much since greeting Peter’s aunt as he came onto the house, but it had immediately been apparent to the Merc that he had seen his face on the news a few times that very day in the same clip. _The motherfucking captain of the New York police department. Oh goody. Fucking hooray._

Wade stayed by the stairs for the next few minutes where they all waited for Peter to arrive. All eyes seemed to be averting him now, nor did nobody dare to address him again, but it could’ve only been his impression. To make this whole situation all the more awkward, Gwen’s mom kept asking questions to May, while in a very gentle and sympathetic tone, about her grief and how her life had been these days. Captain Stacy would engage in May and his wife’s conversation from time to time as well, but he had made it very clear about their plans for the rest of the night the moment his stuck-up ass made contact with the Parkers’ old couch. Apparently, they were on their way to some important dinner with some important people after this, which explained the get-up, but if you would ask Wade, it couldn’t come soon enough. The three young boys looked bored as hell on the floor. _Same, pals._ Surely, they were used to more entertaining toys to play with than dusty pieces of porcelain. For her part, Gwen kept looking down at her phone, and when she wasn’t, she was eying the room at Wade’s Christmas decorations like they were the most exciting thing she had ever seen.

Everyone’s heads turned upward at the ceiling when, all of a sudden, there was undeniably the noise of footsteps happening upstairs. Wade took it as his cue.

“Wasn’t he out?” Captain Stacy asked accusingly, staring over at the mercenary.

“I’m gonna go see if that’s him!” Wade and Gwen both hurriedly exclaimed at the same time, the latter springing off the couch.

Wade hurried to the stairs, not taking conscience to the eyes following him as he did so nor Gwen crossing the room to do the same. However, it became apparent that she was following closely after him, and he took the last few steps backward to look at her.

“Where do you think you’re going, Blondie?”

“Going to see my friend?” she replied, trying to go past him at the top of the staircase and then down the hallway. “He’s up there, right?”

Contrary to how Wade had left it last, Peter’s bedroom door was shut. He almost wanted to laugh imagining the guy changing out of his tights as fast as possible on the other side, which always looked very funny when he was there to see it. Though, Wade could admit it was always a lot more of a frustrating task when _he_ was the one trying to do it himself.

“He’s probably all naked in there,” Wade told her. It was probably the truth, after all. “You probably don’t wanna see that.”

“Why would he be?” Gwen retorted impatiently, as they were now standing face to face right in front of the bedroom door. “Why are you being so weird?”

“Two words, Gwendoline: chronic. Masturbation,” he said, emphasizing each word, before leaning down to her level to blow on her forehead and disturbing her perfectly straight fringe. “And you’re not invited.”

It was after that exact moment that Peter decided to let his presence known. If Wade had to guess, he would say it probably had to do with the claim he had just made about him.

“Hey, Gwen! I don’t have, uh, chronic… problems. I’m just changing!” Peter called out from the other side of the door. It was followed right after by, “Wade, stop annoying her!”

Both fell silent for the few short seconds where they were left waiting for Peter to come out. When he finally did, he was dressed in his regular clothes and had three small bags of the promised brownies in one hand while he was holding the infamous gallon of milk in the other. His hair was sticking up in every direction. He was bare feet and had a grey long-sleeved shirt under a blue t-shirt that, Wade subtly chuckled when he noticed, had the tag coming out of its front collar. The cut on his face he had come back with a few days ago was still red and was even more accentuated by the pink flush of his cheeks over the greenish bruise under it. His brown eyes were bright opened, but he seemed a bit tired like he needed a good nap.

It had only been a few hours, but Wade was only just now realizing how much he had missed the son of a bitch’s presence in the house. He really wished they could go and take a nap right about now.

“Here I am,” Peter let out to the two, acting all normal.

“Since when are you in there? I texted you we were coming!” Gwen interrogated him reproachfully. “My dad is busy, you know? It took everything for him to leave early to come here!”

“Yeah, Pete, what the fuck?” Wade added to her accusations, taking the piss.

Peter sent him a glance, silently asking him to shut up, before turning to Gwen.

“I was coming back from groceries and uh… I saw your family through the window and went for mine?” Peter answered, babbling a bit on his lie, but Gwen was apparently too offended to realize that it was. Upon seeing the hurt look she gave him, he explained, “you know how intimidated I am of your dad.”

This much seemed sincere, and Gwen must have judged so as well since she gave him a nod like she already knew. She stopped short, though, and, her pale eyebrows drawn together, she came closer to Peter.

“Wait, what happened to your face again?” Gwen asked, reaching a hand to his cheek where both the cut and the bruise were to get a better look. “It wasn’t that bad the last time I saw you, was it?”

“It’s fine…” Peter muttered, his head shifting away from the girl’s stubborn fingers on his face before ultimately giving up. “I had a bad cat encounter.”

Peter gave Wade another glance as he said it, a playful one this time, but the latter didn’t return it as it wasn’t registering in his mind at all. All Wade could think about right now was how much he regretted having hung that mistletoe above the doorframe. He certainly wouldn’t have done it if he had known he would have to witness Peter standing right under it with Gwen touching up his face, but here he was. He thought he could ignore it and hope the two wouldn’t notice, but, as it turned out, it didn’t take very long before he couldn’t contain himself.

“ _Whoa_ , whoa, whoa, okay, that’s enough. You guys are trying to ruin mistletoes forever for me?” Wade declared as he crossed his arms over his chest, puffing it out. “Should I’ve marked my territory on it or something? You know I would do it.”

The two others simultaneously looked up, their eyes widening. Wade was happy to see the embarrassment on their faces when they realized what he was on about, particularly the part where Peter jumped backward and almost dropped the gallon of milk as he tried to get away. It was only for a quick flash, but Peter looked about five years younger at that moment. His feet were back inside of his bedroom, and Wade could very well see him closing the door again and hide in there for a little while longer.

“Hey, now it’s us!” Wade said to Gwen.

“Can we just go?” she replied, ignoring him. Although, she did purposefully take a few steps back away from him. “My family is still waiting downstairs, in case you guys forgot.”

Peter silently nodded a few times and closed his door behind him with his elbow. The three of them, Gwen in the lead, made their way down the hallway. Wade was following after Peter, and he waited until they were taking the staircase before opening his mouth again, leaning over so his mouth would be close to the young man’s right ear.

“You know… she may be your first kiss, but I’m your first anal,” he mentioned, _forgetting_ to lower his voice. But then, looking at Gwen’s back and her bouncy ponytail, something occurred to him, so he went on, impressed, “or did she do that too?”

Both of the teenagers’ step interrupted abruptly on the stairs, Gwen almost losing her footing entirely before their heads turned to stare at the Merc. Peter’s face was bright red, and it looked like he wanted to melt into the tapestry behind him.

“Fucking hell, Wade!” Peter exclaimed hoarsely.

“Oh, my God!” Gwen exclaimed as well, appalled, shaking her head. “I didn’t wanna hear that.”

“Ah! I made you swear, _and_ it’s not during anal!” Wade whooped, overjoyed, as he shook Peter’s shoulder. “Best Christmas ever!”

“Oh, God,” Peter was breathing out, looking the most mortified Wade had ever seen him, “what if May heard that…”

“Do you usually keep him in the basement?” Gwen asked Peter as they continued making their way down.

Her head turned in their direction only for what was enough to give Wade a dirty look. He deserved that one, he supposed.

“He only let me out on Christmas and Freaky Fridays,” Wade replied in Peter’s place with a broad smile.

He could almost feel the heat coming off of Peter’s face. She didn’t have to know it was what he would call Fridays after they would get some boning action going on.

“Put your filter on, Wade, please,” Peter nothing but implored him, actually whispering. “Don’t want you getting arrested in my living room. Gwen’s dad is-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know… Gimme that,” Wade replied before the younger man could finish his sentence, taking all three bags of brownies from his hands, including the milk. “Moist and fudgy. Just like me.”

All heads present in the living room were turned to the three of them as they arrived downstairs, Peter’s eyebrows raising high at the new festive decoration all around the room. Fortunately for Wade, they seemed more interested in Peter rather than him and his mouth already menacing to burst with chocolate and milk. In fact, the mercenary immediately went for the kitchen, determined to get away from that situation. Would he be considered a bad boyfriend if he were to hide over there until the Stacys left? Wouldn’t it actually be better for everyone? After all, Peter did say, even if it was in his own kinder words, that he wanted him to keep his mouth shut until RoboCop was gone. Surely, he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

_Sorry, Pete. You know I’m just gonna end up embarrassing you in front of your future in-laws_ , he thought sourly.

“Peter!” Wade could hear May voicing in slight wonder behind his back as he made his way across the room, not noticing Peter’s eyes following him as he went.

“Hey…”

Wade could overhear everything they were saying from his seat on the counter next to the fridge. Peter could handle it by himself. He must have had a lot of dinners with Gwen’s fancy family in her fancy house eating their fancy food… He must have a lot of practice. Besides, he fitted perfectly with them. _No, he doesn’t, what the fuck are you on about? Have you looked at him, lately? The guy may be perfect, but he’s got as much classiness as an hot-dog in the rain! Can’t you hear him back here? He’s not killing it._ It was almost painful to hear the awkwardness in Peter’s voice as he was being greeted by them. It sounded like a stick had been inserted up his ass back on the staircase.

_You’re just mad because she stole your mistletoe moment._

Wade stayed there anyway, humming and chewing on the homemade dessert and drinking from the gallon, from a few delightful minutes, half-listening to the seemingly mindless conversations in the other room. Something about Gwen and Peter’s prodigious university prospects? Wade’s silent resolution not to show his face in the living room again as long it had been overrun by Blonde City was cut very short, though. So much so that when it happened, he hadn’t even had the time to empty an entire bag yet and had only gotten through the song _Alone_ twice this time.

Something that May was saying back there caught his attention and his mouthful to get stuck at the back of his throat.

“I don’t know if it is okay for me to ask, George, but with everything on the news since yesterday I was wondering, have you catch that horrible Spider-Man, yet?”

“No, we haven’t _yet_. But, we will, May, you don’t have to worry,” Captain Stacy responded, his voice important. Wade had some difficulty hearing it over his own coughing. “He’s an amateur who’s assaulting civilians in the dead of night. He’s clumsy, he leaves clues, but he’s still dangerous. For example, we already found his possible hideout not too far away from Williamsburg Bridge. Of course, I can’t say exactly where, as you can understand.”

_Should I ask him if they also found my croc?_

The guy sounded way too confident for Wade’s liking. He could only imagine how Peter must be feeling right now. It was a mix of wanting to smack the confidence off the police man’s face, and the one to not be a fucking asshole and let Peter handle that shit alone ( _the slander!_ ) that urged him to slide his ass off the counter and make his way back to the other room, whether Peter had it covered or not.

While Gwen had taken back her place on the couch, her parents were no longer seated and were standing in front of May and Peter by the unused fireplace, the television off. Wade, slowly and as casually as he could, went to stand beside Peter, all three bags of brownies still in his hand. On his way there, the Merc threw one at the three young boys currently looking like they were about to fall asleep on the floor, before continuing to stuff his mouth. Peter watched him as he got closer, and it crossed Wade’s mind that he had probably heard him choking back there. The young man appeared even more bothered than he thought he would. His face seemed drained from any color now, probably more due to his aunt’s harsh words than the ones from his friend’s dad, but Wade couldn’t be sure since he couldn’t dare say anything to him in front of them.

Their eyes locked for a second, knowingly, and Wade could immediately tell coming back out here had been the right decision.

“You say he’s assaulting people? I think most people would say he was providing a public service,” Peter spoke up then, and Wade wanted to fucking applaud him for having the balls.

George directed his piercing stare on Peter. May’s head turned to her nephew as well, her eyebrows slightly raised in surprise.

“Most people would be wrong,” Captain Stacy replied with an air of finality. He was polite, but Wade would tell the man was already done with that conversation.

“Are you really sure he’s the one who caused those accidents on the bridge?” Peter pushed on nonetheless. “I mean… haven’t there been witnesses saying they saw some kind of giant thing up there?”

George scoffed.

“Yeah, right. A ‘dinosaur’ at large in New York pushing up cars and disappearing in thin air afterward,” the man said, incredibly sarcastic. “Those people were traumatized, but it sure wasn’t by some monster from the sewers sending us a visit.”

“There were more than one saying they saw the same thing!” Peter replied. “Maybe Spider-Man was just trying to protect them from it.”

“You seem to know an awful lot,” George noticed. Wade couldn’t help the way his eyes looked over at Peter in a slight panic. “You know something we don’t? Whose side are you on?”

“I’m not on anyone’s. It looks like’s he’s trying to help,” Peter defended himself, which, here, applied in every sense.

It was almost funny the way May and Helen Stacy’s head kept switching direction between Peter and Geroge like they were watching unfold an enthralling match of tennis happening right in the middle of the living room.

“You think he’s some masked hero, but you’re wrong,” George said categorically.

“I don’t think he’s a hero,” Peter corrected without any hesitation whatsoever.

“But he is!” Wade interjected, the effect quite subsided by the food still present in his mouth. “Boohoo, you got fewer criminals to catch, now, how sad! You’re acting like he’s been stealing you guys’ candies. What’s wrong with him stopping a bike or a car or two from being stolen?”

There was silence following Wade’s interruption. Every head had jerked in his direction, including Peter’s, whose expression was unreadable. Gwen’s dad attention had fully switched to him and, looking as though he had only just realized his presence next to Peter; his eyes started studying him from his mismatched socks to the miniature sized Santa hat on his head. Whatever he found there, he didn’t seem to like it very much. Wade could understand now how Peter could find him intimidating.

“Who are you, again?” the man asked.

“He’s Peter’s boyfriend,” Gwen answered from the couch, looking bored with her chin in her palm.

Wade twisted his upper body around to hold a reproving finger at her.

“Um. _Life partner_  to you, miss.”

Gwen only granted him a dismissive wave of her hand.

“And apparently a huge fan of this _Spider-Man_ ,” Captain Stacy said. “You must know he does more than what you are saying? Do you have any conscience of the damages your friend caused last night?”

“All I know is that, if it weren’t for him, you would have a few dozen frozen corpses to fetch at the bottom of the lake!” Wade bit back.

You could have heard an ant walking on the floor from how silent the room had fallen.

When it seemed like Gwen’s dad wasn’t going to give any comment on that, Wade continued, his tone more casual, “I get it. He does what you guys can’t do, and that pisses you off. It’s called performance issue. It’s perfectly normal.”

“What we can’t do?”

All eyes were focused on them. Nobody in the room seemed like they would dare take a breath. The Captain’s eyes were deadly set on Wade’s.

“What Wade is trying to say is that, maybe, he might be trying to help the police. I saw some videos…” Peter trailed off, fully knowing it was no use.

Indeed, George ignored Peter’s comment to take a step toward the Merc, his mouth set in a hard line. Wade didn’t blink.

“What do you think we do?” Captain Stacy retorted, visibly affronted. “Sit around eating doughnuts with our thumbs up our asses?”

“Ah! He said ass!” Wade said, breaking the eye contact to swing his head around at the kids and point a playful finger at them.

The three boys all giggled with their teeth the same ugly brown as their fingers.

“I wear a badge. This guy wears a mask like an outlaw!” Captain Stacy snapped. “Don’t you think I deserve a little more of your respect than him?”

“But he’s got the tights! The superhero tights no less!”

“He stands for what you do, protecting innocent people from bad guys,” Peter spoke up over Wade’s voice, and it seemed to have caught the Captain’s attention this time.

“I thought you were smarter than that, Peter.”

“Daddy, come on…” Gwen’s voice came from the couch.

_I’ll slap him. I swear I’m gonna fucking slap him. Then he’ll know what a fucking ‘outlaw’ looks like_ , the Merc thought, his head slightly tilting to the side while his free hand closed into a fist at his side. Peter, whose mouth had snapped shut at the insult, saw it and gave him big eyes. _Yeah, right. Not getting arrested._ He unclenched his fist. But then he also remembered the guy’s children were all there and he wasn’t the kind of guy to destroy a man’s ego in front of their offsprings.

“I stand for law and order. That’s what I stand for.”

Wade started humming the Law & Order theme song, and it seemed like Peter had thought of the same thing as him since it looked like he had to refrain himself from laughing. The opposite of him, the three young boys were hysterical on the floor. Gwen had a hand on her face, as though she was trying to hide very far away from this place. Her mother was doing the same, but she was staring at her husband as though she knew exactly how he was going to react. May was another story.

“Who let this clown in here? Do you even have a job, son?” Captain Stacy questioned him, fuming.

His face had taken a reddish color, but he didn’t make any other move toward Wade, nor did he make any menacing gesture toward him. The man knew how to keep his cool. _That’s why you could never be a man of law._

“Okay, dad, maybe you could just change the subject…”

“George…”

“Wade, be polite!” May said through gritted teeth.

“But he’s the one who’s being rude!” Wade replied to her like a kid having being caught by his mother swearing at a teacher.

“I think it’s time for us to go,” Helen Stacy declared, her tone as polite as if nothing unusual had happened.

“Yes,” her husband agreed, taking that opportunity to turn away from Wade. “We have elsewhere to be. Somewhere I’m sure I won’t be getting the same mockeries.”

“Have a Merry Christmas, May,” Helen said, kissing the other woman’s cheeks as a goodbye. “You too, Peter.”

She gestured for her three smaller children to follow her and they obliged, leaving a mess on the carpet behind them. Captain Stacy exited without saying another word.

“Sorry…” Gwen breathed out to Peter as she followed her family to the front door. “I’ll call you later.”

“Merry Christmas!” Wade called out after the family.

The front door closed and the room was left in complete silence. Wade could see Peter gulping before he saw what he was looking at, and he instantly knew why. Somehow, Wade felt like he was in much bigger trouble in front of that 5’3 woman than he ever was facing the head of the New York Police Department.

“What was that?” May questioned firmly to the two of them, her hands on her hips.

Wade opened his mouth to answer, but he was beaten up to it.

“If he didn’t want to hear others’ opinions, he shouldn’t have given his own,” Peter said.

May’s face didn’t let up if she thought her nephew was right or wrong. There was only anger and embarrassment visible there, and it was only then that Wade realized that she had been the one who had ended up getting embarrassed by him, not Peter.

“Sorry…” Wade let out, giving her a pitiful look.

Peter’s head turned to give him a surprised look, more than likely having expected him to riposte.

“I don’t want to see your faces until dinner is ready!” May told them, categoric. Then, gesturing to the carpet where the kids had previously been, she addressed Wade directly. “And you’re going to clean that up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Wade responded, keeping any sarcasm out of his tone. Something was telling him she wouldn’t have taken that very well. Perhaps, he wouldn’t wound up getting a foot up his ass and kicked out the front door, but still, he could tell it was better not to provoke her even more.

He waited until the woman had gone to the other room, taking the big Tupperware that had been left on the coffee table with her, to turn to the other man and ask, “did we just get grounded?”

“Yes, Wade. I think we just did,” Peter sighed, his eyes not leaving the opening where his aunt had just left.

The Merc kneeled on the floor over the spot where most of the miniature houses had been pushed over, and chocolate was covering a lot of their surfaces like ashes and dirt.

“Looks like the fucking aftermath of an _Avengers_ movie…” Wade said, picking up the few figures that had had the misfortune to be there. “Oh, God, Garry! What have they done to ya? Poor Germaine…”

“I’m gonna get towels,” Peter muttered behind him.

They pretty much had to pick up the crumbs one by one from the carpet. When they were over, there was a big puddle in the middle of the living room that made it look like a dog had an accident.

“You really went all out on decoration. The house looks the inside of an elf’s brain, now,” Peter mentioned afterward to the older man as the latter was cleaning up the fingerprint shaped smudges off the small village priest.

Peter was sitting crossed legs on the floor close to the Christmas tree, leaning one elbow on one of the larger gift, which looked like it was the one Wade had wrapped for him.

“My vision was more of like an elf had come all over the inside of the house, but thank you nonetheless,” Wade replied distractingly.

“You know we’re gonna have to put it all down very soon, right?” Peter told him. “May is gonna make us do it. And make us clean the whole house too.”

“As ‘grounded’ stuff?”

“Yeah.”

“Worth it.”

Peter agreed, watching Wade as he went over to the fireplace to replace the villagers where he had left them.

“Did you know your t-shirt is backward?” Wade spoke up, facing away at the fireplace to hide the amused smile on his lips.

Peter promptly looked down at himself and escaped a groan at what he saw. He went over to Wade and pulled at the hat he had forgotten he still had on his head only to snap it back hard.

“Ow.”

“Couldn’t you have said that earlier?” Peter retorted, annoyed. “I must have looked even dumber…”

“Who does he think he is, coming into our house and spilling shit like that?” Wade exploded. “First, he insults Spider-Man, then you, Peter Parker. I think that’s a real crime that exists for realsies.”

“He’s the police captain. Of course, he’s going to think like that,” Peter replied, sounding resigned.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t have to be a little bitch about it and diminish everything you do!” Wade retorted, his voice going up as he went on.

Peter shushed him, pointing a finger toward the kitchen where May still was.

“Imagine having in-laws like that?” Wade uttered out once they had gone up the stairs to the younger man’s room. “I’m sorry if you think I ruined your chance at real happiness.”

“Would you stop?” Peter retorted with infuriation, halting in front of his closed door. “Here!”

Peter abruptly took Wade’s cheeks in both of his palms and brought their mouths together, surprising the Merc whose eyes stayed opened throughout all of it. His hands were stuck in the air and didn’t have the time to settle on the smaller man’s waist like he had wanted to before he pulled away.

“I know it’s been bothering you,” Peter said in a low voice. He opened the door and, pointing up at the plastic mistletoe, and then told, “don’t piss on it, please.”

“Not so fast, Hot Sauce.”

Wade stopped him from entering the door by the bottom of his shirt and pulled him into another kiss. It wasn’t hurried like the last one and followed a lot more the narrative of the fantasies he had had when he had first put it up there. Well, not the _whole_ narrative, since they did have a dinner with an angry aunt to attend to, but all that mattered was that he got that mistletoe kiss in the end, and did had few more all through the night.

They shouldn’t have been surprised when, the next day, Captain Stacy announced to the press that they were putting an arrest warrant on Spider-Man. Wade had burned his throat with his coffee the moment the man’s face appeared on the screen, precisely knowing what was coming.

“That son of a bitch!” Wade exclaimed at the small television, hot liquid running down his lips to his chin. He saw May lifting her head at him with huge reproving eyes. “Sorry, sorry…”

“Why does it bother you guys so much?” she inquired to the two.

“If you really wanna know, May, I’ll tell you. You have the right to know, after all…” Wade said with emphasized dramatization to his voice. Peter was looking at him like he had grown a second head. Or like he was about to throw him out of the window. “I’m Spider-Man. I’m the little shit behind the mask.”

It was Peter’s turn to choke on his coffee.

“It’s a shock, I know. Take it in.”

Against all the odds, May started laughing. For the first time since the Stacys had left the previous day. Needless to say, dinner that previous night had been quite the awkward moment given the woman’s silent treatment. She had broken out of it by now, and the two men had the presentiment that it had to do with the phone call she had had when they had first entered the kitchen that late morning, which had turned out to be with Gwen’s mom. Their soupcons had become true after May mentioned how sorry George was for that previous night. Since it had come from the man’s wife, that fact was questionable, to say the least, but the mercenary was willing to let it go.

“I’m sorry, Wade, but that’s really hard to believe,” May told him, shaking her head as she still chuckled lightly.

Wade huffed, before replying, “well, you’re lucky I was joking, ‘cause I would be very offended, right now.”

“I can never take you seriously, dear,” May admitted, before taking a long sip out of her mug.

Peter burst out laughing at that, the little shit.

Although there was barely time between the moment the last piece of her toast had disappeared from her plate and the one where she had taken out the semi-frozen turkey from the freezer, May had let them know about her plan to have a smaller Christmas feast this year. Wade had no way to know, but he had some difficulties imagining how their previous ones could have been ‘less’ than this.

He couldn’t recall the last time he had adequately celebrated the holiday, let alone sat down to eat a proper home-cook meal like the one May was talking about. Every Christmas for the last few years felt like blurry memories that put the taste of canned cranberries sauce to his mouth and the smell of strong alcohol to his nose. Why bother when the only ones who would share the food with him were the flies hanging around his apartment? Why bother decorating it when nobody else except him would be looking at it with glossy eyes? It was the first year in a while since he hadn’t felt like passing out on the floor for two days from the fast-food and the alcohol. And what if he had brought the barrel of the new gun he would give himself as a present to his head or his mouth a few times.

Maybe that was why he had been trying so hard to get into the festivities, and to get the Parkers back into it as well. Hanging all of those colorful shits around their house had been the most therapeutic thing he had done in years, maybe ever. At least, he believed that it was. Or maybe, he had only been overcompensating for all of the shitty ones from his past. He wondered if Peter had noticed. Of course, he must have. The guy was smart as hell, and it wasn’t like Wade had hidden his past from him. He must have picked up the clues and invited him over for his Christmas break knowing full well he would have mopped alone if he hadn’t.

He had offered to help May with the preparation stuff without overthinking it too much.

“I’ve never done this before,” Wade admitted as he watched May going around the room to find the different ingredients and every single kitchen tool they owned.

“Cooking? Peter said you were good at it!”

“I mean… helping with the Christmas dinner. I don’t think I ever did that with my mom. Never got the chance to,” Wade explained, his eyes transfixed by the chopping board on the counter in front of him. “Not that we would ever do something like that, to begin with. Shit, my dad would’ve probably cut it out thinking I would turn into a sissy or some shit, and beat me or force me to gun down a baby deer instead.”

The silence that followed made Wade incredibly uncomfortable. He could feel the two other pairs of eyes in the room at the back of his skull and hear Peter’s chair creaking like he was about to get up. Wade almost would have dropped everything and left the room if it wasn’t from the gentle hand May rested on his shoulder. Something might have told her she had to take him seriously this time. Wade couldn’t meet her eyes, then, but he knew they weren’t judging him.

_Wow. I had a bad childhood._

_More like a bad life, buddy._

“Ben used to prepare the turkey. Maybe you could do that?”

“What about me?” Peter inquired from the kitchen table, even though he didn’t look too excited about it. From what Wade knew about the 18 years old’s ‘aptitude’ in the cooking department, that was a reasonable assumption to make.

May had been thinking the same, since all she replied was, “oh, Peter, you’ve never been good at it. Just go do something else.”

“Yeah, sweetheart, just sit your lovely ass back down and be pretty,” Wade said. Then, twisting his body around to look at Peter and barely stopping himself from winking, he added, “didn’t you have that homework to finish on weird reptiles for science class? Maybe you could do some progress on that.”

“Oh! Yeah. Good idea, Wade,” Peter replied, promptly getting up from his chair.

“That happens sometimes.”

Peter pinched Wade’s side over his red sweater on his way out. The kitchen was in silence for only a few seconds before the Merc couldn’t take it anymore and loudly clapped his hands together once, startling May.

“Well! I’m gonna put on some ABBA,” he blurted out. “No sad thoughts can occur when that shit is playing! Plus, it’s been known to be the most Christmassy of bands, right?”

“If you say so,” Peter’s aunt replied, shaking her head fondly.

Wade had been so right that he ended up forgetting what he was doing and broke up into song more times than he had cut pieces of bread and vegetables that were needed for the stuffing.

“I’m the fifth ABBA,” he told May after essentially performing and dedicating the entirety of _Dancing Queen_ to her, which she seemed to appreciate over her chopped onion.

“ _That_ , I can believe,” she laughed out as she brought a wet washcloth over her watery eyes.

Peter had come back with his laptop and had sat back down at the kitchen table a long time ago. His head was bopping to the music from time to time while his face stayed frozen in the same concentrated expression. Though, Wade could tell when he would break off of it. Sometimes he would catch his eyes on him as he wiggled and danced his way around the kitchen and over his cutting board covered with vegetables. Almost every time, Peter would promptly advert them away back to his screen, a blush to his cheeks and his hand going to scratch at the back of chin. It was after the sixth time that Wade looked back to see the same thing that he went over to Peter and wrapped his arms around his shoulders to plant a kiss on his cheek. The older man lingered there longer than he should have, and placed a few more kisses there and around his neck. His hands smelled like he had spilled the entirety of the fridge on them and Peter had let him know very quickly. Peter appeared more relaxed after that, and it even looked like he was about to die from suffocation over his energetic dance to _Gimme Gimme Gimme_ , which the Merc found to be quite flattering even though he knew it was from hilarity.

When he finally got to the time for stuffing the turkey, his entire hand inside of there despite the spoon May had forced into his hand, and it took everything he had in him not to make the comment he wanted to make. Peter seemed to know exactly what it was going to be as well, given the stern look that he received from him, which had ‘no, you’re not going to compare me to a stuffed turkey in front of my aunt’ written all over it.

The food could have been worse, all things considered. In fact, it was delicious, but Wade was putting all of it on May’s sauce skills and not on his own cooking skill in general. It must have taken more time to make it than if she had done everything alone, but she hadn’t said anything. The sun had set very early, and the kitchen had been cast in subdued light for a while now. The Christmas lights he had randomly dispersed around the house looked pretty nice. Although, the short string on the wall beside the dining table had one of its corners come off halfway through dinner and was hanging vertically instead of horizontally.

“Let’s make a toast!” Wade blurted out at the table.

Wade lifted his glass of wine in front of him, his mouth opening and closing without knowing what he should say next. Peter, who was in the process of stuffing his face with mashed potatoes, had cheeks looking third time their size when his eyes shifted curiously to him.

“Um, I… I guess, uh…”

“Why did you wanna make a toast, if you didn’t have anything to say?” Peter inquired, his voice muffled by the food inside of his mouth.

“I thought they did that in movies! I panicked!”

He shut his mouth when he saw May taking her glass of wine into her hand and lifting it above the wooden table.

“To Ben,” she simply said, looking over at the only empty chair around the table.

The two men looked over as well. They repeated after her, Peter with his empty soft drink can.

“What a handsome fella!” Wade declared, hoping to lightened the tension that had set over the room upon the mention of Ben.

The two others chuckled, but it was very brief. Wade spent the rest of supper listening attentively to old memories of the late man. Like that he used to fall asleep right away on the couch after Christmas dinner and they always had to wake him up for the presents unwrapping. Or that he used to wait until mid-February to take off the decorations, which he would claim to be on purpose. The happy nostalgia was heavily overshadowed by the melancholy in the two Parkers’ voices as they reminisced. Wade’s bite of turkey came down slower down his throat when May suddenly brought up the man that ended her husband’s life. Even though she looked angry as she mentioned it, she was glad for his imprisonment, which would be for a good amount of time, too, given his long criminal history of armed robberies. Wade managed to meet Peter’s eyes, even though they had seemed glued to his plate then, but he didn’t exactly know what he saw there anyway.

So, it was like a taking a breath of fresh air when they all gathered in the living room, pushed by Peter’s desire to unwrap the presents. He immediately went to sit by the Christmas tree like it was a habit of his. May was sitting on the couch finishing the last sips of her wine while Wade leaned his back against it on the floor beside her legs, his owns stretched out in front of him. He gave the first gift to his aunt, which happened to be one from Wade. It was nothing special, only a big candle and some bags of random tea, but that was what he had heard were supposed to be good gifts for in-laws. The first one was supposed to smell like some flower, he couldn’t remember which one.

“Because you smell good like one!” Wade gave her as an explanation. It was the same one he had given Peter when they had gone Christmas shopping together after he might have gone into a panic as to what to offer his aunt.

“Thank you, Wade.”

The pièce de résistance, when it came to their present for the woman, definitely was the next one Peter put in her hands. It was a professional and framed picture of the two of them in a traditional and very corny couple pose and matching cheap Christmas sweaters they had borrowed from the store just for the shoot. In it, they were standing in front of the other, looking dead on at the camera with the same frozen smile with an unattractive beige background behind them. Wade’s left hand was awkwardly floating over Peter’s waist covered in his green and ‘naughty,’ as it was written on it, sweater.

“Wow!” May let out after only unwrapping one-third of the frame.

“You should see the ones hung in my apartment,” Wade told her.

He struggled for a few seconds trying to find the right words to faithfully describe the two pictures he had had on his wall for a few days, and never wanted to remove again, but stopped. Actually, Wade was pretty sure their images were so powerful that not even a hurricane or an earthquake could be able to take them down. One was a classic and uncanny photographic montage of their two faces. Wade’s was taking most of the frame and was looking to the side as Peter, in a head-to-shoulder portrait, was fading into the side of his head. The other had Peter laying on his front and leaning his chin into one of his palms while his elbows were holding his upper body off the floor. He had been laughing so hard at that moment that his eyes were closed and crinkles were all around them and his opened mouth. Wade, showing a shit-eating grin, was crunched up and coming up behind him like some kind of goblin creature, his left palm laying flat on the younger man’s back while his other one was wrapped like a claw around his ass. They have made the right choice giving that first picture to May, all thing considered.

“Actually, it kind of looks like the one your uncle and I took after we first got engaged!” May remarked, holding the picture in front of her with what seemed like permanently raised eyebrows. “There was a lot more hair and denim if I remember correctly.”

“Really, I never saw it?” Peter inquired.

“I think we might have lost it when we first got settled here,” May replied, putting down the frame on top of her thighs. “Do you guys have something to tell me, then?”

“What? No!” Peter reacted right away, crossing his legs on the floor. “It hasn’t even been three whole months yet!”

“Yeah, lady, I don’t know where you got that idea, but Peter and I are strictly friends. Brothers, even,” Wade said before giving the 18 years old the fingers guns.

“When you know, you know, like my mother used to say,” May said, lightly twisting the wedding ring around her finger. “It took your uncle six months to propose. She thought he was taking his sweet time!”

“I think I would wait until I’m at least graduated before doing… something like that,” Peter said, and Wade was almost sure he was avoiding looking at him.

_Hmmm._

“That’s true,” May conceded. “On the other hand, I’m glad I don’t have to worry anymore about you getting a girlfriend pregnant.”

“May…” Peter retorted in a plaintive tone.

“Gross, Sally Field! He’s way too busy for that!” Wade exclaimed, lightly slapping the woman’s calf with the back of his hand, and consequently going into a one-second panic where he doubted if they had reached _that_ level yet.

_If she’s already okay with you getting hitched with her nephew, I think that’s okay. Even though she’s probably just drunk. Can women get drunk after only two glasses of wine? Yeah, that must be it._

Peter ended that conversation, which had made his face somewhat pinker (but it could have just been the Christmas lights from the tree reflecting on it), by tossing over to Wade a rectangular present. It was the one he had noticed not too long ago, with a lot of conflicting emotions at the time, had his name on it with May’s handwriting. The Merc tore the colorful paper in three movements, yet, he stopped short when he saw what was inside. There were three different colored sweaters neatly folded on top of the others. The one at the top was a green forest color while the other two were a different shade of blue.

“I thought since you’re always wearing the same one, you could use some more…” May explained but trailed off. Something in his face might have given her the impression that something was wrong since she quickly followed with, “you don’t like them?”

“No, no, they’re fu-freaking great,” Wade shakily replied, way too close to tearing up for his liking, which more than likely was what had caught the woman’s attention. _Seriously, what the fuck has been happening to me?_ _Maybe it’s just the ‘mother’s touch’ thing that people’s been talking about?_ He cleared his throat and lied, “I’m just… always so cold, you know?”

For the first time since meeting Peter, and most notably for the first time in his life, he got the feeling that, maybe, just maybe, that was what being part of a family could be like.

_Well, that’s enough feelings for one Christmas. For the whole year, actually. Fucking Peter and his fucking… existence._

Speaking of which, Peter had shuffled over to get a better look at what was inside the box, probably to see what could have brought such an emotional response from him. His head tilted in confusion when he saw the clothes inside of it, like having expected it to be some kind of treasure, but he didn’t say anything. The guy was undoubtedly used to getting clothes as presents from his aunt, given the face he had had when unwrapping his own a few moments earlier. According to May, “he had grown so much in the past few months.”

Wade took off his red sweater right there and then, surprising the two Parkers with the sudden and gratuitous nudity, and changed into one of the new ones. It was the green one, and it felt incredibly softer on his skin than his old and worn out one had been. And it smelled better too, even if it still had the new scent from the store.

“I accept your proposition, May,” the mercenary declared, all solemnly. “I’m ready to get adopted.”

May laughed in response and patted the shoulder that was the closest to her.

“Whoa,” Peter let out. “I hope you’ll like the things I got for you as much…”

“Give it to me, brother!”

Peter crawled back to the tree and quickly started making his way back on his knees with the big box Wade had witnessed him poorly wrapped two days ago. The stuff inside could be heard bumping a bit against the other as the young man held it in one arm, and he would have almost certainly dropped if it wasn’t from his abnormal reflexes. He set it down on Wade’s lap and sat beside him, leaning his left cheek in his palm as his elbow rested on the couch to face him. Wade had to fight a bit against the Santa Claus paper for a few minutes, where May kept reprimanding Peter on his terrible wrapping skills, but ultimately worked out the top. Right away, he put his hand in there among the red tissue paper without really looking.

“What are you doing, start with the card!” Peter instructed him as grabbed his wrist to pull it out of the box. “You always gotta start with the card.”

It was stuck to the side between some covered gift and the brown carton. It was a thick and white piece of paper bent in two with a simple enumeration of black words on its front written in Peter’s poor handwriting.

“Lodine, lutetium, Vanadium, Uranium,” Wade slowly read out loud. “What? Did you drop your chem homework in there by accident?”

“Just open it!” Peter told him, amused.

“Oh!” Wade let out after he did what he was told. Peter had drawn in the same black pen the periodic symbol for each element, which basically spelled ‘I love you.’ Made more sense now. “You only did that to make me look stupid.”

“Maybe.”

When Wade put his hand inside the box again, without his boyfriend protesting, he came back this time with something slightly weightier than a piece of paper. And also, a lot less cute and more offending, if you were to ask him.

“A joke book?”

Peter shrugged.

“You need help in that department.”

“Excuse me? That’s the only department where I _don’t_ need help, thank you very much,” the older man retorted as he tried to ignore May’s low chuckles behind him. “I think you might be projecting.”

Next, Wade found a white mug with the words ‘coffee slut’ written on it in sparkling cursive letters. In it, Peter had put some lip balms of various flavors he had never thought someone could or ever want to apply on their lips.

“Nice!”

There was something plasticky underneath his fingers, and then he was pulling out a red drinking bird wearing an orange hat on its stupid little head. Peter explained its presence in the box by simply saying, “you keep complaining that you have no friends, so there you go.”

“You know me so well.”

The last thing inside was, Wade’s mouth fell opened when he caught sight of it, a giant _Golden Girls_ magnet that had the potential to cover half of his fridge door.

“Did you steal that from a freaking museum?”

“Not quite,” Peter replied, smiling at his reaction. “It was much harder to find than the rest, I must admit.”

“Did you just go to the dollar store and buy every stupid shit you saw?”

“Yeah?”

“Me too,” Wade admitted. “Well, I got a bit crafty too.”

They high-fived.

“My turn!”

At the same time May stood up from the couch, Peter did the same to make his way over to the Christmas tree where only one present remained.

“I’m gonna make you guys some hot cocoa,” the woman said, leaving the room.

Instead of taking back his place beside him on the floor, Peter lightly kicked the inside of Wade’s legs to be able to sit between them, the gift in his lap. Wade bent his knees, framing the other man, and automatically wrapped his arms around his neck and hugged him from behind.

“Mmm, that’s soft,” Peter commented as he was grabbing between his fingers a bit of the fabric covering Wade’s arm. “I hated that other one,” he then admitted.

“You hate everything I wear.”

“No, I don’t! I just prefer when you’re not wearing anything… to be honest,” the young man whispered so low that it had been difficult to decipher, glancing over a few times to the opening where his aunt had gone to.

“Oh, my God,” Wade breathed out in his neck, smiling devilishly. “That’s quite spicy for you, isn’t it?”

Peter didn’t answer and instead started tearing up the festive paper. Before the Merc could even realize it, Peter was pulling the first object out of the box similar to the way Wade had done a few moments prior.

“A… label maker?”

“Saw it on _The Simpsons_ ,” he said as justification. “I may have already used it. Once or twice.”

“To write the word boob?” Peter replied. “You stuck it to your bathroom’s mirror. I saw it yesterday when we went to your place.”

Wade watched expectedly over Peter’s shoulder as the teenager was blindly putting his hand inside again and came back with the exact thing he had been looking forward to, and had been for quite some time now.

“You might wanna open this one quick before your aunt comes back,” he warned him.

The side of Peter’s face that he could see looked incredibly worried when brought the gift up to his face. It looked similar to an incomplete pack of playing cards, except that it was visibly handmade and had crude stick figures drawn on them accompanied with one or a few words instead of the usual numbers and symbols.

“Love Coupons. You can use them at any time. You just gotta choose,” Wade explained as Peter’s eyes got progressively wider the longer he looked at the cards in his hands. “Pick one right now!”

“Wade, these are all sex positions,” Peter retorted, twisting his head around to give him a not so rare look of complete and utter bewilderment.

Wade met his stare and pointedly replied, “exactly.”

“Jesus…”

Before Peter could finish whatever that he was going to say, May entered the room again with two hot mugs in each hand.

“There you go! I’m just gonna put them here,” she said. She set their drinks on the coffee table beside the framed picture of the two men, after tossing on the floor the few giant pieces of wrapping paper that had landed there. “What did I miss?”

“Here!” the 18 years old replied eagerly, holding out the label maker to his aunt before she could go over to sit on the sofa chair while, at the same time, trying to hide the coupons inside of his shirt as subtly as possible.

Wade sneaked his hand under there as well to replace the grip Peter had on them with his own. Peter’s left knee went up on impulse when he managed to push the pack further down into the space between his underwear and his jeans. Peter may have judged they were better down here than in his aunt’s sight since he didn’t try to relocate them, though, he must haven’t thought the same thing about Wade’s fingers since he forced them out. He kept holding them once they were no longer down his pants and squeezed them so hard that Wade had no choice but to jerk them away.

“Ow!” Wade let out. Still, he recovered not even a full second later to suavely murmur into his right ear, “you know that’s one of my turns on.”

“I’m just gonna ignore you now,” Peter said in a calm voice.

“Good luck with that,” Wade replied as he wrapped his arms around the younger man’s middle and rested his chin on his shoulder, his hands now joined at his belly.

Peter’s early New Year resolution was quickly broken, since, as it turned, he did currently have his back plastered against Wade’s chest while opening gifts from him. He looked relieved when he pulled out the next one. It was a set of different colored markers that you could write down stuff on a paper that rolled down to the side when tugging at it. Wade couldn’t remember for the life of him what kind of shit he had written in there, and he told Peter so. What he didn’t reveal, though, was that he might have been a little drunk and distracted by being yelled at the whole time by Weasel for “taking up his whole counter with his crap.” Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t have done all of his crafty business, which included, of course, the ‘love coupons,’ over at his bar. _But you know what they say: loneliness and crafts are a dangerous mix. Or something like that._

“I’m sure you’ll have fun finding out,” he told Peter, who set them aside with a small smile.

However, his lips morphed into a thin line soon after when his fingers ran over the bottom surface of the box where he felt the small items Wade had scattered around without giving it many thoughts. Peter squinted as his hand came back out bursting with different sized of penis-shaped erasers that he hastily hid from May’s view. He turned his head to stare at him blankly.

“To go with the pens!” Wade hurried to defend himself.

“They are markers!” Peter retorted. “Remind me not to ever open anything from you again as long as I still live here.”

“Oh look! There’s something at the bottom!” Wade ignored him, pointing at the inside of the emptied box. Still, he then whispered to him, “I would suggest you not to read it out loud in case you wanna keep living in this house for a little while longer.”

Peter sighed deeply and complied. There was a piece of paper taped to the bottom of the box. Wade knew what it said exactly, so instead of rereading it, he watched the fast and vast range of emotions on Peter’s face as he did.

_I got my asshole waxed._

_Merry Christmas, Petey!_

_Love forever. Wade_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in next time: bottom!Wade might make a wild appearance… and Peter might finally take back the POV… you never know…


	27. Go for it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wounded Peter and Wade clear up some stuff and end up using one or two of Wade's Christmas gifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day, have some (probably) fucking (bad) smut!   
> (Listen to I’ll Make Love To You by Boyz II Men, it will set off any mood I’m telling you)

Peter slid open the window from the outside with one hand, his mask in the other. It was kind of weird how Wade never locked it. He hadn’t said anything about it, but maybe Wade had gotten tired of having to go over to unlock it for him every time he would stop by. The apartment was as pitch-dark than the outside when Peter sneaked his head through the window. He doubted the Merc would be sleeping at this hour, since it was barely eight in the afternoon, though there was no sign of him being inside.

Peter slithered his legs through and closed the window behind him. He sat on the windowsill, in the dark, wondering what to do. His chest was burning all over as his wet suit was sticking to it. Breathing just made his wound move and burn even more. Then again, given that his clothes were so wet, he could feel himself shivering. So far, this January had been quite kind to them, but there were still some days, like this one, where the wind would feel like ice on the skin. Peter wondered if he should leave. Or should he text Wade? He was so uncomfortable. His wound would need cleaning soon, and surely a shower would do him some good after the sewage. However, Peter had never been in his boyfriend’s apartment without him being there before. Even though a lot of his stuff were scattered around the place and the amount of ‘Property of Peter Parker’ that were labeling many of his furniture and stuff, it still felt a little weird intruding like that like it was his own. Although Wade wouldn’t mind, he didn’t think.

Peter had been sat there for a good ten minutes, more catching his breath than anything else at this point, before he finally decided to move, pushed by the tingling of his chest. He dropped his backpack on the floor. His feet touched the ground, but before he had even time to make a real step inside the room, he heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the front door. There was a quick beat before it slammed open against the wall and stopped him dead in his track.

“Fucking shit, fuckity fuck shit!” Wade was pretty much shooting as he walked inside of his apartment.

Peter sat back on the windowsill with a smile, expecting to be spotted him immediately, but he wasn’t. The man kept profusely swearing as he closed his door behind him with the back of his foot and made the short way over to his kitchen table. Wade didn’t notice him sitting there, even after switching on the light. Peter watched him, amused as his complete unawareness, and thus happy that it was him and not some other guy that had been waiting for him in the dark to… _take him out_ or something. He wondered, not for the first time, how Wade must look like during one of his hits. Peter doubted they all ended up the same way the one he had accidentally been a part of all of those months ago did, but it was interesting to imagine.

He had never heard this much swears coming out in a row of Wade’s mouth. He looked cuddly in his blue sweater, albeit the guns he was laying out on the table’s damaged wooden surface told otherwise. The happy looking drinking-bird in the middle of it, like a centerpiece, made it all the more confusing.

Peter directed his one functioning web-shooter toward the ceiling, just in case, before clearing his throat, and casually saying, “how you doin’?”

In a flash of silver, Peter saw Wade grabbing one of his guns laid in front of him and aiming it right at his face. Peter didn’t get the _feeling_ , like an itch behind his neck, he usually had on the few occasions where he had had a gun pointed at him in the last few months, but he directed a web up anyway.

“Son of a bitch!” Wade exclaimed. “How long have you been here? You sit in the dark in my apartment, often?”

Wade dropped his gun to his side. Peter might have good reflexes now, but Wade’s were exceptionally good. The fact that he hadn’t pushed the trigger the very second he recognized him, even though he had been very much about to shoot, was an excellent example of it, according to Peter.

“Not that long. I was just gonna use your shower,” Peter replied, looking upside-down at the man. “That’s the third time you’ve pointed a gun at me without shooting. Should I feel special?”

“I beg your pardon Mister Spider, but you can’t expect me _not_ to do that when the price on your head is so fucking high. Seriously, though, I’ve had to erase your name off a particular dead pool too many times to count, by now. Your pretty head is the highest bet we’ve ever seen. They want the fucking challenge. I think I’ll have to…” Wade interrupted his tirade when his head twisted upward to look at him more closely. “Shit, what happened?”

He had spotted the four long and bloody scratches traveling across Peter’s chest and lacerating through the spider design on his suit. Wade was limping a bit when he walked over to where Peter was making his slow landing.

“You should see the other guy,” Peter replied, letting himself fall onto the couch with a low yet painful grunt. “In this instance, the other guy is a mutant lizard.”

“Alright, come to daddy,” Wade exhaled, taking a seat next to him. “You ended up finding it, after all? Or did it find you?”

Peter related his day, which was quite the eventful one, starting with his decision to skip school and sending a visit to Dr. Connors’ lab. He had hoped to find some sort of answer about the monster he saw on the bridge a few weeks ago, and maybe find some clues on how to defeat such thing, but Peter had gone out of the Oscorp tower with a lot more than what he had bargained for.

“He was acting… very sketchy,” Peter explained. “There’s no way he doesn’t have something to do with this.”

“Well, yeah. Was kind of obvious, wasn’t it?” Wade replied.

He was looking down at his messed-up suit and grabbing at it with two of his fingers to peel it off his bloody torso. His hands were already red with some drying blood before he even did, and Peter’s mind wondered for a second if its owner of said blood was still alive or not.

“What do you mean?”

“First time we met the guy, he immediately brought up reptiles and their _wonderful_ properties, wanting to use them for his freaky arm experiment and shit in front of everyone. Wonder there weren’t any red bells that started ringing, then.”

There was a short silence before Peter spoke up again. The older man’s eyes went up to look at his face curiously.

“I had some suspicions…” he defended himself.

Peter then quickly went on about how ineffective his visit to the Captain of police had been. He ended up getting even more embarrassed relating that encounter than he had been with the previous one, which had apparently only ended up revealing to Wade his slow sense of deduction.

“Yeah, I know. Was stupid,” the young man said upon seeing the expression on Wade’s face. “He didn’t believe anything I had to say about Connors.”

“Gosh, I’m shocked!”

Wade perked up a lot more at the mention of his grand escapade in the sewers. At first, the man seemed confused when Peter alluded to following some small lizards down there, but his face scrunched up in disgust when learning about him waiting for a while in some sewer tunnel with his camera ready. His fingers had gone completely still on his suit by the time Peter reached the part where the ‘big boss’ actually showed up, and he got the wound that was the reason for his visit.

“It sucked,” Peter simply described, leaning further into the couch and closing his eyes with a long exhale. “And, shoot, I lost my camera. It should still be down there.”

“You’re gonna go back there and tell him: stop putting your claws in me!”

Peter snorted, but quickly got back his serious.

“I really have to come back there, though,” he sighed, frustrated with himself. “I should’ve prepared more. I will next time.”

“That’s not your job to go after it,” Wade told him.

“Maybe it is,” Peter replied, drained but categoric.

“They don’t deserve you or your fucking help, anyway.”

“I know what you think.”

His head tilted in the other man’s direction as he blindly smiled at him.

“So, I’m guessing you had quite the busy day, sweetheart?” Wade changed the subject.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Peter replied, his eyes still shut. “What about yours?”

“Oh, you know the guy I texted you about the other day?”

“The one with the mullet and the ‘I-like-to-beat-up-random-women-in-the-street’ problem?”

“The son of a bitch had a fucking gun!” Wade replied, suddenly sounding agitated. Angry, even, but it was only for that first outburst. “Well, they always do, but that one knew how to use it.”

Peter sat up straight, his eyes shooting open.

“What…”

Wade moved his right leg so it would be laying straight on the couch, his shoe on top of Peter’s knee. There was a grey sock tightly tied around his upper thigh. Well, you could barely tell its original color under all of the fresh blood that had soaked through it. Peter made a move to extend a hand toward it, but before he could do so, Wade let his leg fall back with the flash of an uncomfortable grimace on his face.

As though he didn’t just let him know about the hole he currently had in his leg, Wade gestured to his wet Spider-Man suit and suggested him, “you should maybe take that off before you dry down.”

“Wade, stop, you-you gotta take care of that!”

Wade shook his head lightly.

“Yours is way more urgent.”

“What, no, no, you got shot, Wade!”

“It’s just a graze. Didn’t pierce through,” the mercenary answered, as though he was talking about something trivial like losing his keys.

Peter felt somewhat disturbed, and he wasn’t sure if Wade’s nonchalance about the whole thing was contributing to that. He was almost certain his face had turned paler. His eyes wouldn’t stop glancing down at the sock supposedly keeping Wade from bleeding out right then and there, and at the dry blood covering his hands, which he now knew was undoubtedly his own. At this moment, he felt like he could understand much better why Wade would react the ways he did every time there was a new nasty bruise or scratch on him. Until now, it had seemed in Peter’s mind that his boyfriend was untouchable and even invincible in a way. That idea just blew in his face in the shape of a bloody sock. He wasn’t too eager to see what was under it.

Wade was right, though. He could feel his own blood drying on his chest and the spandex that was sticking to every part of his skin. Peter wordlessly nodded and started taking off his top, half to distract his eyes away from the man. Wade’s hands reached out when he saw him struggling a bit to pull the piece of clothing over his head. He was the one who threw the dirty item of clothing over their heads where it landed at the back of the couch. Resewing it back to its original state was going to suck. He would tear his suit from time to time, but it was always relatively small and not the entire front of it.

Having fresh air on his tingling skin already felt much better. Wade leaned closer to his torso so he would be able to inspect his injury, muttering some stuff under his breath from time to time. Peter looked at his face as he did, not knowing where to put his hands. He hadn’t been able to see him much since New Year, well, less than usual. His stubble had grown out a bit in the nine days where he hadn’t been able to see him, just as though he had missed a week of his usual shaving. His hair wasn’t as short on the sides as he had kept them in the last few months, probably since he had decided to grow them out a bit for the new year. His brown eyes were hard and focused on the four clean cuts tearing up his skin, yet, Peter could barely feel the fingers he was lightly pressing against them. His other palm was laying flat against Peter’s upper arm, the callousness of it sending something that he could only describe as a pleasant and familiar charge of electricity to his tired brain. His brows were drawn tightly together, and Peter didn’t know if it was in reaction to his sorry state or if it had to do with the pain of his own wound. His lips were pressed together. They looked so soft, even though he knew just how prickly his stubble felt.

“Hey, by the way,” Peter lowly said, unconsciously leaning forward.

Wade’s mouth curved into a smile as he glanced up at him and leaned his face away from his chest.

“Hey.”

Wade’s palm ran up his arm to land on his neck, and he kissed him.

“You’re still using the lip balms I gave you,” Peter noted after, briefly running his tongue over his bottom lip.

Wade shrugged happily.

“Skittles.”

“You know what? I thought that.”

They chuckled for a moment, and Wade placed another kiss to his mouth. Surprising the young man slightly, he then gave a quick peck to his chest all bloody and aflame, and Peter felt inside of it another kind of warmth that had nothing to do with the claws that had torn into it.

“Unsanitary,” Peter simply commented, even though he could feel his cheeks getting back a bit too much of the color it had lost.

“I think you went past that when you got into nasty sewer water,” Wade replied. He then took a more serious tone. “You could really get infected. I think it would be good if you took that shower and cleaned it there. It’s nasty.”

The younger man looked down at himself, consequently getting a strong whiff of the scent he had carried over from the sewage.

“Yuck, I stink!”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, but yeah, that too. You smell like _shit_. Like you rolled in it. No, like, you know the smell when you take a shit and take a hot shower right after, and then come back in the bathroom after a bit? That’s how bad you smell. Poop humidity.”

“Alright, alright… You don’t always smell so good yourself, and you don’t see me making a big deal about it,” Peter mumbled back grumpily.

“Watch it! I’ve never taken this good fucking care of my ass than I’ve been lately.”

“I’m supposed to take that literally, of course?”

“Uh, yeah? Smell like roses and daisies in there. The whole fucking garden.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“You tell me!”

Wade tried wriggling his eyebrows for a bit, making himself look deranged more than anything else. He could be poorly doing it on purpose, but Peter still couldn’t contain the laugh that it got out of him.

“Maybe later. Now, I’m gonna go take that shower,” Peter declared, standing off the couch. He pointed down to Wade’s ‘bandaged’ leg, and added, “how are you gonna take care of that?”

“Mind if I join in?” Wade asked instead, sounding rather hopeful. “Cleaning a leg injury never works in the sink.”

It was like he was speaking from past experiences. Of course, he would be.

“Sure, yeah,” Peter answered. “That sock couldn’t have been clean.”

“Cleaner than you! Plus, you’ll need a nurse to assist you.”

“Mm-mm.”

He felt Wade’s gentle hand sitting on his bare lower back as they made their way to the other room.

“Holy shit, you have a huge fucking bruise forming on your back. What happened with that?”

It only hurt when he would stretch his back in a way that made his shoulder blades meet, as he quickly discovered before even reaching the threshold of the bathroom. It would hurt like a bitch tomorrow, he could tell.

“I got swung around in water. Couldn’t see anything,” Peter explained. “Does it look bad?”

“Not that bad. You do seem to heal faster, though.”

Peter sat on the closed toilet seat, half of his suit still very much on, and watched Wade untying the sock around his thigh. He gulped in slight disgust when witnessing the fabric sticking to the missing skin. The Merc had no choice but to rip it off bit by bit as he would do to a band-aid. There was a disgustingly high amount of both fresh and dry blood on the smile piece of clothing when he finally could let it dropped on the floor with a painful sounding hiss coming out of his mouth. Taking off Wade’s jeans, which now had a big hole in them, was another ordeal in itself.

“I could just cut them,” Wade muttered as he looked at Peter who had taken it upon himself to do the job.

“Well, too late.”

Peter had successfully got them off with some little trouble. He could see the abrasion much clearer now. His jaw clenched at the view. Blood didn’t come pouring out of there like he thought it would be, but there was still a fair amount there. It was raw, bright red skin which had, if he wasn’t mistaken, some residues from his pants when the bullet had struck there. Peter became vaguely aware of the fact that Wade was taking off his sweater right before he purposefully dropped it on top of his head, startling him out of his silent contemplation and sending his vision into darkness.

“If you keep staring like that, you’ll have to ask for my number,” Peter heard the man say, the first part of it slightly muffled by the sweater that had been covering his head.

“That can’t be feeling good.”

“It burns a lot.”

Peter could see some of the other scars sprinkled around Wade’s skin among his few tattoos, and a thought occurred to him. He already knew of their existence, and some of the stories that came with them, which the ones that Wade did remember, he could hardly believe. The Merc would always finish his drawn-out explanations away with either “you know my dad used me as a knife sharpener” or “I traveled to a lot of exotic places and met my loads of new and exciting people,” but it didn’t make them any less unbelievable. However, Peter couldn’t tell if any new major ones had appeared since the first time he had been able to take a look at all of those white lines, from the tiny one on his underarm to the long one at the back of his calf. With how much Wade seemed to be sharing with him, it was easy to forget that he could still be keeping some stuff away from him and concealing things from his eyes.

“Did you hide one of these from me before?” Peter asked, trusting that the man would understand what he was talking about.

“Never had to.”

Peter wordlessly nodded before tearing his eyes away from the other man’s bare skin and taking off the last part of his suit. Wade stepped into the shower behind him as he was turning on the water. The cold water jet hit the top of Peter’s head before it could change to lukewarm, though, a sigh of relief escaped out of his mouth. There was a ‘Property of Peter Parker’ label he didn’t remember having stuck there on the wall at perfect eye-level to him, and another one saying ‘ass king’ right under it, which he knew for sure wasn’t from him.

“Here,” Wade’s voice echoed behind him in the small stall. 

Wade’s arm appeared on the right side of his head as he took the shower-head and turned him around to let the lukewarm water spray all over his bloodied chest. The water falling at their feet wasn’t red for long before it came back to normal, but Wade didn’t waste much time before grabbing the bar of soap behind him and running it over the four clean scratches starting from above his first rib to all the way up to his left shoulder.

“That’ll make one badass scar. You’re lucky that cocksucker didn’t go in that deep,” Wade broke the silence again. “Do you think you’ll turn into one too, like a werewolf? A spider-lizard thing? You’ll have to rebrand. Add a long tail to the spiders on your suit. Quick, before they change your actor again.”

The thought of growing out scales and a new oversized limb like the one he had seen growing out of Dr. Connors’ back on top of everything else didn’t seem the slightest bit appealing to Peter.

“Don’t scare me,” he muttered back.

“The things you could do with that tail…” Wade whispered while rubbing the soap over his skin in a suggestive motion like only him could manage.

For whatever reason, that idea seemed to have raised another one inside of Wade’s mind since, entirely out of the blue, the next thing he said was, “we should’ve come up with safe-words a long time ago.”

“I guess?” Peter replied, caught off guard. “What, you mean, like, right now?”

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to prepare an extensive list beforehand.”

That decision felt somewhat important. Something was telling him Wade would never let him change it.

“I’m thinking _olive_. ‘Cause I love you,” the man told, and it very much sounded like he had thought about it beforehand.

“Where’s the logic in that…” Peter was about to protest but decided to let it go. “Okay, it’s fine.”

“Found yours?”

“Why not _pineapple_? I hate pineapples.”

“What have they ever done to you, baby?”

Peter shook his head and took the shower-head from him before he could protest. It didn’t seem fair that Wade’s wound, which, despite the mercenary’s opinion on the matter, obviously looked much worse than his, was being ignored when in clear need of care. He unceremoniously kneeled on the shower tiles. He had to grip the ankle to Wade’s bad leg and hold it down so he would stop fidgeting and try to kick him.

“Usually, I would be all in for that view, but I suspect you’re- ARGH, fuck me!”

Peter was glad the water pressure was enough to get the fabric out of the chunk of missing skin because he didn’t know if he would have been able to venture into that part. His grip went up to the inside of Wade’s knee after the latter decided to stop fighting against it. Perhaps, Wade was rightfully judging his skills to be poor in the ‘cleaning an open wound’ department and didn’t want him messing it up even more. Or, like with most things, as Peter had noticed, the man was so used to do everything by himself that he was never too eager to ask or accept someone else’s help. Peter didn’t know which one of the two he wanted it to be. Wade was always there to wipe his bloody nose, or clean his scratches, or even if it was only to kiss his bruises. All he wanted was to do the same for him. Just this once.

“You have weird shaped legs,” Peter remarked to distract the both of them as he gently applied the soap, cutting the string of swears coming out under Wade’s breath.

“Love you too,” he replied before letting out a long hiss of pain.

“Two hot chicken legs.”

“Alright, it’s because I said you smell like the shit at the bottom of a toilet? My mom did say men would try to tear you apart at your lowest.”

After only having to ask once for Wade to stop trying to put his dick in his face, and coming _way_ too close to getting poke him in the eyes with it, Peter got back on his feet after another minute. He pushed himself up by Wade’s firm bicep before directing the shower-head right at his face for a few seconds before putting it back where it belonged behind him over both of their heads. His mouth and eyes were still shut overly tight, water drops all over his eyelids when Peter turned to face him again, but that sight was gone pretty quickly. Wade had covered Peter’s entire face with his palm and moved it around so would have no choice but to shut his eyes too.

“Grandma, is that you?”

“Yes,” Peter replied, monotoned, but his voice was all muffled by the hand covering his mouth.

He pushed his tongue out to be able to lick Wade’s palm in an attempt to get it off, but he knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Ooh, grandma! You’re a lot more eager than I remember.”

Peter tore the other man’s fingers off his face and looked at him blankly in the eyes.

“Ew, man, you gotta stop,” Peter told him, a laugh audible behind his words.

The water jet was hitting him right in between his shoulder blades, which meant Wade wasn’t getting any of it. It was always the problem when they got to share a shower. One of them had to make the sacrifice and be cold as hell for most of it. Peter wanted to pull him against him and snuggled into him as he would often usually do, but he knew the sore skin of his chest wouldn’t agree with that decision. Although, as if he knew, Wade decided for him.

Both of his palms went up to land around Peter’s neck and tenderly pulled his head forward until he was pressing their mouths together. Peter was too focus on the way Wade’s wet lips felt against his to notice his own hands lifting to rest on the man’s bare waist. He sighed at the first brush of his tongue.

Wade’s mouth detached from him with a wet sound before it moved to his temple and the side of his head and into his hair. He appeared to be taking a long sniff of him, before saying, “your hair stinks ass too… Oh, can I wash it?”

“I mean, yeah, sure. Go for it,” Peter replied, but, before he had even gotten a word out, the man’s arm was already eagerly slipping through his armpit to reach the shampoo bottle behind him.

Wade would always put way too much shampoo for the amount of hair that he had, but Peter couldn’t bring himself to correct him. Not when his head massages were so good and that he was so enthusiastic about it. All he could feel was the man’s pecs brushing against the back of his shoulders and his fingers in his hair, and he let himself close his eyes.

“I hate lukewarm showers,” Wade said as he massaged the back of the smaller man’s head with foams. “It’s like unsatisfying sex. You’re not enjoying it. You’re just waiting for the moment it gets hot.”

“Tell me about it…” Peter joked back. He heard the offended sounding huff coming out of Wade as his fingers went still on his head. “I’m kidding!”

“Don’t joke about that! You know I’m very sensitive about my performance. That and my legs, now, apparently.”

“No, you’re not! You would sell your own sex tape if you could!”

“Clean out that suit, and we can make some real bucks, baby. You could have put your camera to good use before it went down the drain… uh…” Wade trailed off, his soapy fingers leaving Peter’s hair altogether. “Pete. Didn’t you label your camera? With the label maker I gave you? Isn’t Connors gonna know it was you? That you’re Spider-Man?”

Peter turned around to face him, shampoo slowly dripping down to his forehead. He didn’t say anything, but he was sure his face said it all.

“You’re the dumbest person alive! A fucking dumbass!”

Wade had busted out laughing by the time the embarrassment pushed Peter to storm out of the shower.

“Petey! Baby! I’m sorry, come back!” Wade cried out from the stall, his head poking out from it. “I’ve not rinsed it out yet!”

Water was dripping down to the bathroom floor as Peter stood there, stark naked and his hair plopping down from the weight of the mountain of white foam on top of it. Only when it had reached a point where the shampoo had gotten to his eyes that Peter chose to come back in. He blindly and grudgingly made his way inside, Wade’s hands taking him by the shoulders.

“Goddammit, how did I not think about that?” Peter let out, angrily. “Of course. Me, the horrible and stupid Spider-Man, I didn’t think!”

He shouldn’t have gone for it without any plan. The people, _the Police_ , pretty much everyone, were right. He was an amateur. It was fun pretending that he wasn’t, but it always made the moment where he would realize his mistakes worse.

“You know you’re not horrible and you know you’re not stupid,” Wade reassured him. “We’ll figure it out later, okay? I don’t think Lizard-Man’s gonna show up here. There’s not enough space for the three of us in here, anyway.”

Peter didn’t say anything else and hung his head low, his eyes still tightly shut and his arms to his sides, as Wade stood in front of him and directed the shower-head to his hair. His fingers were slow on the 18 years old’s skull, almost lazily so, and his short fingernails would occasionally run against his nape. Peter could only feel himself relaxing slightly. He was still way too annoyed with himself to let go completely.

“I got a question for ya,” Wade broke the silence again.

“Mm?”

“If my legs are chicken legs, are my balls chicken nuggets, then?”

Peter didn’t respond, but the corners of his mouth did quirk up. The water jet was shut off, and he felt two little taps on the back of his chin like a silent ask to raise it. He did without opening his eyes just yet, and he thought he might have imagined the very brief graze on top of his lips since it was gone so fast. Wade’s fingers were slicking his wet hair back and untangling them, the sensation of his fingernails leisurely running over scalp again incredibly nice. When Peter did open his eyes, it was to Wade’s and his stupidly handsome face smiling at him. He felt dumb for being momentarily breath taken then, but he couldn’t help it.

“Let’s patch that shit up!” Wade said as he poked his chest between two of the cuts, before hopping out of the shower.

Unlike Peter, who had put his pair of boxers back on, Wade hadn’t bothered putting on any clothes or even tying a towel around his waist when getting back to the living room.

“Now. Let’s do some bandage!” Wade declared, holding the white strip of fabric between his hands and stretching it as he would do to a small rope. It made a pitiful tearing noise.

“You should do yours first.”

Wade conceded for once. He might not want his raw skin rubbing all up against his old couch, which looked like it absorbed everything that it ever touched. Peter was already seated on it, and he observed in silence the weird sight of a naked Wade struggling on one leg to bandage the other. Once it was done, and it didn’t take that long, props to Wade, he went over to the couch and let himself fall on it beside Peter, whose hair had started to messily dry on top of his head.

“I would be such a good nurse,” Wade said before the bandage had even touched Peter’s skin. “Can you imagine how pretty I would look in a nurse outfit?”

“Very. Um, uh… probably?” Peter shrugged.

“Thank you, young man!”

Crossed-legged, Peter sat motionless as Wade got to work on his clean injury. He couldn’t help staring down at the neatly tied bandage around the man’s leg. What would he have done if there had been a bullet stuck inside, or if one had pierced through and blood had been pouring out everywhere? Just sit and watch, completely clueless? It was during those kinds of moments, even though they had never gone as far as to involve a bullet wound before, that Peter could sense the utter inadequacy that he would always try pushing all the way down when in the Merc’s presence coming back to the surface.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Peter blurted out suddenly.

Wade’s hands on his torso didn’t waver nor did he appear in the least taken aback. But his mouth stayed shut, unlike what Peter had expected, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth and hidden under his bottom one.

“At life. At this Spider-Man thing. With you,” he continued, watching him intently.

“You just gotta make shit up as you go along,” Wade replied then, his eyes still not leaving his task.

“I wish I could be as carefree as you are.”

“The number of times I’ve nearly blown my brain out is telling otherwise.”

Wade’s tone was awfully casual, and one of Peter’s hands went up to the side of the man’s head where he caressed the longer fuzz there. He dropped it again soon after, though, determined on getting to his point.

“You always go on about how I should be with someone ‘better.’ But, if you were to ask me, you’re the one who’s way out of my league.”

Wade scoffed loudly. He must think he was joking.

“You should be with somebody who knows what they’re doing. Someone’s who’s older and isn’t a loser, and would wanna tie you up in bed, and isn’t gonna make you feel bad about your job, and who knows how to clean bullet wounds and stuff like that, and- uh, and someone wh-who wouldn’t hesitate to put down the man who killed their uncle!”

That decision was still tearing him up inside.

The words had come out so fast out of Peter’s mouth that it was a wonder Wade had caught any of it. It felt weird saying all of those things out loud, but if there was one thing he had learned for the Merc, it was that blurting out whatever was passing through your mind could do some good sometimes, especially after he had been holding it on for so long. If he couldn’t figure out the other things going on in his life right now _like the scientist turned mutant lizard who’s definitely going to want to get him soon_ , at least he could try with the living-breathing man in front of him. One that was incredibly naked and still had a lot of distracting water drops drying and running down his skin, and whose warm breath kept hitting his collarbone.

“Oddly specific,” Wade replied. His head then suddenly raised like he had realized something. “Jeez, do I sound like that?”

“Kinda, yeah.”

Wade shifted on the couch, scratching his short beard before both of his palms deposited on each of the younger man’s knees where he played with his fingers there. If Peter didn’t know any better, he would have thought he had become uneasy. It was more of the way the mercenary would act while trying to come up with something to say that would make sense of his thoughts or would sound the most accurate to them without being completely off the point. It wasn’t always successful, but at least it showed that he was trying most of the time.

“Baby, look. You can be such an idiot sometimes, but that takes the fucking cake,” Wade finally let out, bluntly.

“Okay?” Peter retorted, taken aback. He hadn’t expected the insult.

“I don’t know how I got this fucking lucky finding you, but I don’t want you thinking it’s the other way around. Or that you should reach a level of fucked up to be worthy of me. Ew. Don’t go thinking stuff like that.”

“But you do the same exact thing! All the time!”

“Yeah, but I’m a big hypocrite,” Wade replied. His head kept leaning closer to Peter’s to meet his piercing stare, to the point of making the latter wonder if he was even aware of it. “You, on the other hand, shouldn’t have to worry about any of that.”

“Wouldn’t you want to be with someone who’s more like you?” Peter asked, his heart giving him the impression to be in the process of folding inside of itself. He had wanted to ask that question for too long for him to brush it off now. “Who’s more into the same, um, lifestyle? Part of your world?”

“Another criminal, you mean, Little Mermaid?” Wade scoffed. “The question everyone should be asking is: why hasn’t any of yours snatch you up yet? They’ve all seen your ass in spandex. What if you find a criminal way better and hotter than me since that seems to be your type?”

“See what I mean!” Peter threw his hands in the air in exasperation. “How could that even be possible, though? You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

“I know. You mustn’t look in the mirror a lot.”

Peter made loud gagging noises. Wade’s smile faded when he saw the way Peter’s eyes changed to look more severe after it.

“Let’s just both stop with that bullshit, okay?” Peter asked, almost pleading. “No more of that ridiculous crap that I should be with Gwen or literally anybody else that’s not your stupid ass, and I’ll stop doing the same with you. I’m… I’m yours, and you’re mine, and that’s that. End of story.”

“Well, if you say it like _that_.” Wade took Peter’s little finger and hooked it with his in front of them. “Do you still do pinky promises in high school?”

“When the situation asks for it, yes.”

“Then, it’s a promise.”

The grip Wade’s little finger had on his tightened and then he was shaking it with a bit too much enthusiast that was enough to send Peter’s entire arm and shoulder into the same energetic motion. One partially-set line of bandage flopped down from the top of his chest to fold at his rib. When Peter thought the other man was going to let go, he dropped their hands on his knee, instead, and opened his mouth.

“I know why we’re so good together.”

Peter’s eyebrows rose in surprise and with quite a bit of curiosity.

“And what’s that?”

“Your stupidity matches my stupidity. _Big time_ ,” Wade explained with emphasis, as though he had never said something more thoughtful in his life. Though, it quickly turned into confusion when he added, “did I say that right? I don’t think that was the line…”

“I’ll take it,” Peter replied, giving a half-shrug. He looked down at their linked hands where the older man’s grip was still a bit too hard. “You know, it’s not very polite not to give someone back their pinky after a deal has been made.”

“Sorry. I’m not very familiar with the protocol.”

As Wade’s eyes glanced down to their hands, he appeared to have also caught sight of his unfinished progress on Peter’s wound. He whispered a quick “shit!” which lead Peter to believe he had forgotten what he had been doing, and quickly got his hands back to work.

“Tie me up in bed?” Wade casually let out after only a full minute of silence, repetitively glancing up at him with innocent eyes.

Peter let out a long sigh.

“I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned- I knew you would be sticking on that!”

“That makes me think. You never used any of the love coupons I made for you!”

Leaving the bandage undone again, Wade precipitously jumped off the couch, presumably to fetch wherever he had been keeping those. Peter had purposefully left them at his place so there would be absolutely no chance May would stumble on them. Wade came back from his bedside drawer and pushed inside of his hand the card-game sized pack of paper joined by the same elastic band from when Peter had opened it as a gift for Christmas.

“You put some in there that don’t even exist, and some that are... questionable,” Peter remarked as he looked through the crude drawings again. Rereading the names of those sex positions only made him realized that his web history was in desperate need to get cleared up from those particular terms.

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re freakishly flexible. I thought we’d gone over this,” Wade said, his arms going under Peter’s elbows to be able to get to his torso. “How could you know? Did you check some of them out or something? Did some research?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did,” Peter admitted and instantly regretted it.

Wade didn’t appear to have expected that answer at all, and his face lit up like the Christmas lights he had decorated their house with when he realized what that must have implied, which consequently matched Peter’s transformation into a living tomato.

“ _Peter!_ You watched some gay porn?” Wade exclaimed, his voice a mix of wonder and what an enthusiastic mother would sound like after finding out her son had made his bed on his own for the first time in his life.

Peter sighed and groaned at the same time. It had been a really weird and lonely night that he genuinely thought he would never have to bring up. There were some images that he knew for a fact he would never be able to erase out of his head without the help of some bleach. And some others that made him seriously questioned and left feeling ashamed of his grooming in some strategic places, and also made him quite overthink all of the noises that had ever come out of his mouth while in bed with Wade.

“Did you learn some new bases?” Wade inquired, his eyes looking at Peter the same way they had when he had brought him some sugar-coated gummies that one evening.

If he had forgotten about bandaging Peter before, now he truly had. Although, he was very nearly done, which made it quite frustrating for Peter since all Wade had to do was tape the last remaining band toward his shoulder.

“I guess... If you can even call them that…” Peter replied vaguely, his head down as he secured the white bandage for Wade.

“Did it make you feel insecure? Self-conscious? You don’t have to be, baby.”

“Shut up!” Peter let out, the skin of his face heating like a furnace at this point. “Why did we start talking about this? I got attacked by a seven feet tall lizard, and there’s a piece of your thigh missing!”

“It changed your mind, didn’t it?” Wade replied, patting the bandaged skin.

“Why wouldn’t I be insecure about this? I was half a virgin when I met you.”

Wade sniggered.

“It’s true, I touched a boob, once,” Peter gave as an explanation.

“Was it yours?” Wade teased. But then, to the other man’s dismay, he asked with acute interest, “did you jerk off thinking about us doing some of those stuff?”

Peter groaned very loudly, his head directed toward the ceiling, and thus apparently giving Wade the answer he wanted.

“Aw, that’s so sweet!” Wade let out, but the innocent way he had said it swore considerably with the fingers he was currently running up the young man’s inner thigh with that smug look forming on his face.

Peter cleared his throat, and trying to ignore the man’s fingers, he did the exact thing that couldn’t make that work by looking through Wade’s coupons again like they were his notes for an oral presentation in front of one of his classes. His breath caught in his throat when they reached the leg of his already short enough underwear and slipped their way inside, yet his eyes stayed deliberately set on the stick figures in front of him. Peter stopped on one in particular, but just as he did so, Wade’s hand had gotten to his groin, where he could already feel his heartbeat coming through and blood pumping down. A very squeaky noise escaped out of Peter’s mouth that he wasn’t too proud of, at the same time as his abdomen reflexively contracted.

“I think I could use this one, right now,” Peter told, his voice the tiniest bit higher than usual. “I was gonna try to put the card on you, but I realized you don’t have any clothes on or any folds.”

Wade hurriedly leaned closer to see which one it was, his right hand slipping out of the younger man’s boxers in the process, and his face the epitome of anticipation. It sagged a bit when he took it from his hand and realized which one it was, but it wasn’t in deception per se. It was more in the ‘I thought you would have chosen the one where we’re hanging from the ceiling, but whatever’ kind of deal.

“Missionary? Of course, it is…” Wade said, shaking his head all knowingly. “Makes sense. You opened up and got all vulnerable on me earlier, and now you need some good lovin’ from your good old Wade. For me to look deep into your eyes while-”

“Why did you put it in there, then? You love it,” Peter interrupted, pretty confident about it too.

“Yeah, but what can I say,” Wade shrugged, “our sex has meaning.”

“Uh, thank you?” Peter replied, bemused if he should feel flattered or not. “I mean, I hoped it did by now since you were just wearing a sweater my aunt gave you for Christmas.”

Wade, who had been in the process of uncrossing Peter’s legs to stretch them out in front of him, stopped to frown at him.

“Please, don’t talk about your aunt when I’m trying to score here.”

“Right, sorry,” Peter chuckled. “Whoa…!”

Wade had dragged him down by his legs in one swift move of his arms. The back of Peter’s head landed on the armrest while the rest of him ended up sprawled out on top of the couch under the larger man’s body. His bare thighs were pulled apart and positioned on each side of Wade as his palms had a good grip on them. Wade lowered himself between them until their hips were flushed together and his chest was barely brushing against Peter’s bandages, and he could press his forehead down against his.

“Looking deep into your eyes doesn’t make me wanna puke,” Wade teased, doing precisely that.

“Thanks, man. But…”

But then Peter thought his ears were about to burst, and he felt like he very much could make a break to the window and leave right and there without feeling too bad about it. It wasn’t a sentiment too uncommon for him since his boyfriend, for some reason that escaped him, was very prone on breaking off into the most outrageous songs in the most inappropriate of times, which happened to be in situations like that one where Peter’s face, _and ears_ , were so close to his.

“ _I'll make love to you, like you want me to, and I'll hold you tight, baby all through the_ -” Wade badly sang.

Peter moved a hand to cover the man’s mouth. No even how good the sensation of Wade’s semi rubbing ever so slightly against his own bulge through his boxers was could have made it endure that. Besides, it wasn’t exactly how he wanted things to play out.

“Um, sorry to break off your riff, but I was thinking of something a little bit different when I picked that one.”

“Huh?”

Peter’s palms placed themselves flat on the other man’s chest and pushed up. They then quickly went around his waist to lay him exactly where he wanted, which was his back against the couch with his legs spread apart, ignoring the coupons all falling to the floor. In an almost perfect reverse of their position from a second ago, Peter lowered himself between Wade’s bare thighs but didn’t press their forehead together. Instead, he just gazed down at the surprise and slight confusion on the Merc’s face with a small grin on his own.

“Lemme take care of you,” Peter said, repeating something he had heard Wade said to him many times before, and hoping to make it sound as hot as when it was coming from the man’s mouth.

Wade’s attitude changed.

“Oh?”

Usually, Peter would let Wade do whatever the hell he wanted. He loved having him all around him. When he would be on top of him or sprawled on his back. Having his hands on him and pulling at his hair, which seemed to have become one of Wade’s expected habits now. He loved when he would fuck himself on him and intoxicate him with mouth and breath everywhere on his skin. He loved how broad Wade’s shoulders were compared to his, and how he could cover his whole body with his. Wade seemed to appreciate taking charge, and Peter was more than happy to let him take it.

Also, it was easier that way. He didn’t have to worry too much about making a fool of himself by pretending that stupid sense of inadequacy wasn’t showing up its nose and preventing him from doing the same things to Wade that he was doing so effortlessly and so well to him. Peter had worried so much, and for so long about it that now that he had had a confirmation from Wade that those concerns were indeed stupid and irrational, he wanted to try everything with him he never had the guts to initiate before. Starting with properly making love to his boyfriend. He could imagine Wade puking for real if he were to say that out loud.

“You could’ve told me before I made a fool of myself,” Wade muttered, all of his fingers going up and inside Peter’s half-wet hair.

Peter didn’t know what to reply, so he simply planted one brief kiss on Wade’s lips that promptly turned into a long, open-mouthed one. They were still soft, but they had lost the fruity flavor from his lip balm that Peter had tasted on them earlier that night. Peter’s head was being pushed down even more by the firm grip the Merc had on his hair, and soon, Peter had no choice but to let the entirety of his weight fall on top of his body. Like it had been his plan all along, Wade then moved his hands away from his hair to traveled down to the dip of his lower back, at the border of his underwear. While the soles of Wade’s feet were staying on the cushion, his knees were up, and his hips kept pressing up, almost to the point of lifting the both of them off the couch.

As much as Peter enjoyed all of this, his right arm was crushed against the backrest, and he feared to make any move, in case they were to slide down to the floor. Also, the springs mustn’t be feeling good on Wade’s back. His love-hate relationship with that couch was an ever-going thing, and that night was no exception. Wade’s mouth chased after his when he pulled away from them, but he quickly recovered when he realized what Peter was doing. His arms went around the back of Wade’s thighs before getting off the couch, bringing the man with him.

“Smooth, Parker. Gotta love the Spidey-mobile,” Wade let out, smiling from ear to ear as if he had just got on one of those carousels with those weird looking horses. “But you don’t need to bed me, Vanilla Ice. I can take the couch just fine. The floor’s damn nice too.”

“Oh, sorry for wanting you to be comfortable,” Peter sarcastically replied.

Peter transported him over to the bed, anyway, having to walk over only one pile of clothes and some pairs of shoes in the process. Wade’s heels were joined around his back as his mouth had taken a particular interest for the entire left side of his neck. By the time Peter could descent them onto the mattress, by the pain of it, he was pretty sure there was already a mark left there. As he pushed away the small heap of covers underneath his knees, he noticed with slight amusement that Wade had moved one of the two framed pictures they had professionally taken from the wall to his bedside table, the one where he was laying on the floor smiling with Wade coming up behind him and clawing at his butt. It was massive compared to the other ones of them, mostly Polaroids, scattered around the wooden surface.

“Give me the love of my life!” Wade chanted, his hands pulling at the younger man’s shoulders so he would fall forward, but the latter wouldn’t budge yet.

“Really?” Peter let out, speaking about the huge bottle of lotion he found among the covers and was now putting on the other bedside table where an empty bag of candy sat there. “Had some fun last night?”

“Three good funs, I’m telling ya. You should’ve have seen that.”

“Sure would’ve been a better show than the English paper I’d to work on all night.”

“Next time, I’ll film it and send it to you.”

“Or just text me, so I can come over to help out? Maybe?” Peter replied, letting himself fall between the older man’s legs again, both hands flat on the pillow on each side of his face.

“But why? You know I can’t help you with your homework,” Wade joked, feigning ignorance while, at the same time, moving his hands down so he could take off Peter’s underwear.

Peter rolled his eyes but hastened to assist him. Before the pair of boxers had even reached the floor, Wade’s legs were already there to go back around him, his heels digging into his lower back to bring him further down. Peter didn’t fight it and brought his lips to the man’s half-opened mouth. As he moved one palm to cup Wade’s jaw, his hips unconsciously moved as well, and he felt the vibration of the man’s low moan on his tongue. His grip on Peter’s hair turned into a fist when the latter stirred again, this time purposefully trying to cause their bare hardening members to brush against each other again and for Wade to make that noise again.

Peter did that for a while. Over and over again until a chunk of his hair felt it was about to fall off into the Merc’s hand and he felt a tad lightheaded from the lack of breaths he had been able to take, his groin area feeling like it was on fire from the inside. His mouth pulled away from Wade’s to immediately focus on his neck, leaving trails of wet opened-mouth kisses there until he reached his collarbone. But just when Peter was about to go even further down, Wade’s hands kept him in place.

“Pete, Pete, stop, wait, I need to say something really dumb and potentially relationship ruining,” Wade let out, out of breath.

“What is it?”

Wade cleared his throat like people would do in movies before doing a big speech at a wedding. Peter humored him.

“How can you pretend not being part of my world, when _you_ are my world? Eh?”

“You’ve been thinking about that one…”

“Since earlier, yes,” Wade nodded solemnly. He lifted two fingers which then started mimicking someone walking over Peter’s skin from his upper arm to his shoulder blades. “Look, I’m going around the world!”

“Oh, my God.”

“Nope, you got the wrong guy.”

Peter was shaking his head as he made his way down for real this time, his hair tickling Wade’s skin and causing his abs to tighten as he went on. When reaching his navel, he ignored the older man’s dick almost completely by merely giving a lick to the very top of its base before going directly for the sensitive skin on the inside of his non-bandaged thigh. Peter knew just how much it was, which was to the point of almost getting kicked to the head that one time because of how mad it could drive Wade. It took only a few runs of his tongue there before he heard a whine escaping out of Wade’s mouth. He sucked a bit there as well, causing Wade’s other leg to stir like a spasm, but then stopped, leaning away completely.

Kneeling and a hand on each hipbone, Peter then turned Wade’s whole body around in one fast move that could have been enough to give someone whiplash. Despite his face now sinking into the pillow, Wade only gave a joyful whoop.

“Gimme the…” Peter said, but the older man was already tossing him the lotion bottle to him before he could get it all out.

He took a lot of it until it was dripping down his wrist, which he wiped on Wade’s butt cheek before the liquid could run down to his elbow. The man had crossed his arms over the pillow and rested his left cheek on them to be able to look at Peter behind him. For some reason, the sight of delighted anticipation on Wade’s face and the eagerness with which his ass kept pressing up onto his hand added up to make his movement a bit clumsier and shakier than he would have wanted it to be when it was time to intrude a finger inside. Because of it, it also seemed like his dick was desperately calling for him to pay attention to it, which didn’t help.

Wade must have sensed his hesitation, since it didn’t take much time before he remarked, “you’ve done this before, what’s going on?”

“You’re making me nervous!” Peter retorted, his free hand pushing down so he would at least stop wriggling around while Wade chuckled happily.

It was so smooth. Like that time on Christmas night when Peter had insisted on sneaking out to go to Wade’s place and see for himself what his last gift implied. He had thought it was a joke at first and hadn’t believed him at all.

“Did you, uh… you know…”

Somehow, Wade exactly knew what he was talking about, which surely had to do with the fact that what else could he be trying to allude to when having just put a finger up his ass.

“Had to redo it,” Wade said. “It itched like a son of a bitch. You would think I put steel wool up in there.”

“It was a commitment. I’ll give you that,” the young man replied as his index very slowly moved around a little. “It sure doesn’t feel like that anymore, if that can reassure you.”

“Good. But I can’t promise you I’ll keep that up for long, mi amore.”

“That’s okay.”

A thought occurred to Peter and, without overthinking it, he leaned down and planted a kiss beside his finger as he would do to the man’s lips, and he felt him freeze. It was only for a second, but it made him go still as well and wonder if he should do it again like he wanted to. When he did, a few times over at that, Wade, having probably not expected it, started repeating the same thing for a little while as though he wasn’t even conscious of it.

“Oh, okay? Ah, okay, okay. Okay…”

Peter had never done that before, and he didn’t where the desire to do it came from, but he wanted to try. He knew how good that could feel from the very few times Wade had done it to him, and that was what was on his mind when he pushed, rather tentatively, his tongue right beside where his slick index had started moving. Peter did that for every new finger and got tempted to remove them altogether and let his mouth have alone fun there for a while. When he ultimately gave in, Wade had gotten abnormally quiet, and it brought the question in Peter’s mind that he could be the first one doing that to him. Not that he would ever get the courage to ask, and he didn’t really have any desire to hear the answer if there was a possibility Wade was going to say ‘no.’ Peter thought he might be doing a sloppy and frankly poor job until he felt the man’s entire body shivering underneath his hands at one particularly drawn-out flick of his tongue. He tried replicating it much faster and what he got was one of Wade’s shin springing up and inadvertently hitting him in the shoulder. Peter took it in his hand, continuing to do the same thing, and only let it go when he judged his fingers had been dismissed for too long.

His back, his knees, and his wrist were all starting to hurt. It was hard to breathe, even when he pulled his mouth away and came back up, still playing around with his fingers. Wade had started aggressively writhing against the mattress for a few minutes now. His eyes were closed, and his hands were in tight fists on the pillow when Peter climb up the bed to hover directly above him. He took his fingers out and grabbed Wade’s tensed shoulder and turned him around so he would be laying on his back again, and he could straddle his stomach. Wade’s hands instinctively went up to the young man’s chest where he could feel the scratches under the bandages burning from the pressure it gave them.

Flinching, Peter lowly let out, “ouch, careful.”

He looked down to see the man’s palms instantly leaving his chest as though they could also feel the burn they had given it, to then move to his legs instead.

“Shit, sorry,” Wade exhaled. “You know. That’s when you’re supposed to use your safe-word.”

“Noted.”

Peter smiled, and grabbed Wade’s face in his hands and then kissed him deeply. He didn’t know if it was him who got the man’s head to lift off the pillow or if he had done it on his own, but what mattered was that he was giving the same fervency as he was. His palms had moved down and were running up and down Peter’s thighs on each side of him. Though, when Peter pulled away, Wade had that weird expression on his face like he was about to say something that he knew was incredibly silly but couldn’t help it. Somehow, the 18 years old exactly knew what it was.

“No, don’t say it. Don’t you say it…”

“Ass breath,” Wade let out with a very pleased grin.

“There it is.”

Peter made a move to get off the man’s body, but he had started laughing even before he was stopped.

“Come over here,” Wade breathed out then, grabbing his ass in both hands and pushing him forward until he had no choice but to be sitting on top of his chest.

Peter really didn’t have any time to process what was happening before he was given another shove forward, causing his arms to go up and catch the wall by reflex. He didn’t know how most of his dick had gotten inside of Wade’s mouth so fast, but it had, and his skin felt like it had lit on fire like it did on gasoline. His fingers were digging almost painfully into his ass while his warm tongue felt like it was everywhere at the same time. Peter looked down, and the sight of it alone was enough to force out an embarrassingly long whimper out of his mouth.

“Shit…” he escaped out between fast breaths, one hand going down to hold onto Wade’s short hair.

His hips didn’t even have to move on their own at all since Wade was doing it for them and with such ardor that it was almost impossible for him to think. His mouth wouldn’t shut. His forehead was pressed against the cold wall, and he caught himself closing his eyes and concentrating on the warm and overwhelming wetness around his dick. They shot opened only after a few seconds of that, and he pulled at Wade’s hair to stop his movement.

“Stop, stop, stop, I wanna fuck you,” was all the explanation he shakily managed to let out.

Wade, his lips darkened and wet with saliva, didn’t say anything and only went for the bottle of lotion laying on the covers to his left. The young man’s jaw tightened at the first touch of the cold liquid, but it was enough to uncloud his brain a bit. His fingers were running over him so slowly, like the complete opposite of his actions from barely a minute ago. It didn’t much longer before Peter felt like he was about to explode again, and he moved away.

“Go on… fuck me,” he heard Wade whispering in a shaky breath as Peter was making his way down to be on his knees between his legs.

Impatiently moving the man’s knees up, Peter then started progressively sinking into him, his body leaning down to cover Wade’s in the same motion. His palms were laying flat on the mattress, underneath the pillow, and Peter looked down as his dick disappeared into the man’s body. He always liked doing that. When he raised his head, Wade started playfully pushing his forehead up against his, as though trying to make their pairs of eyes touch. Peter laughed, but it almost immediately morphed into a drawn-out and very satisfying moan when Wade’s hands came down to his hips and forced them to flush with his ass. A moan of his own, accompanied with a few swears, had come out of Wade’s opened mouth and the younger man engulfed it into a kiss to feel its vibration.

Wade didn’t seem to know where to put his hands then, and they hovered over other man’s bandaged chest for a second before going around to his bruised back for less time than that. He ended up placing them both on his neck as he met Peter’s tongue, and leisurely caressing him them to then bury themselves in the hair at the back of his head. It sent a shiver down Peter’s body that propelled him to move inside the man and, like a switch had been pulled, Wade went to grab his hips again. His motions were slow and gradual, and Wade’s fingers were there, digging at his flesh and urging him to go deeper for every second of it.

One of Peter’s hand left the other to keep himself up and went to land on the side of his thigh in need to touch the man’s skin, which unluckily happened to be the one with the missing piece of flesh.

“Shit, ow! _Pineapple!_ ” Wade instantly uttered out.

“Sorry, sorry, I forgot,” Peter replied as he switched hands, before giving a kiss to his bristly jaw. “You know that’s not even yours?”

“I can’t remember, I don’t care…” Wade breathlessly mumbled before taking his mouth between his angry-red lips again, even if it was only to more or less breath into it.

Wade’s length was rubbing against his stomach, and he felt momentarily bad for having ignored it for so long. The man’s face snapped up when he wrapped his fingers around it, his chin very nearly knocking into his. Peter felt almost proud for being able to give his wrist a vastly different pace from his hips. While the first was fast and hurried, the second one was deliberately drawn-out almost to the point of driving him crazy. He ran his tongue over the man’s exposed neck as his thrusts picked up the pace just a little, but had to stop given that his mouth then wouldn’t stop letting noises coming from deep within his throat despite himself.

Wade chose that moment to take his cheeks between his palms and tell him, “your face looks dumb.”

Peter was pretty sure if someone were to put a mirror to his face at any moment during sex, he would be thinking the same thing and then some, so he couldn’t really argue with that.

“You too.”

“I love you,” Wade then said, almost aggressively.

“You too,” Peter repeated because words felt way too difficult to come up with, at that moment.

His hair kept falling in his eyes. Sweat was covering both of their skin, as though they had only just come out of a much hotter shower than the one they had had in reality. Wade’s heat around him, his smell, his touch, the noises he was emitting, were intoxicating, too much. He knew he had to match his fingers’ pace before he would lose his mind entirely and become too erratic. It didn’t really work, and soon his hand had to leave Wade’s dick to clutch at the thin sheet covering the mattress. Peter leaned down and dropped his forehead on the other man’s chest, his eyes closing shut. He couldn’t help it and glanced down at their joined bodies and instantly recognized his mistake.

“Shit… ah, I’m gonna come…” he whined against his skin.          

“Go for it,” Wade told him, and, with a slight tremor to his sweaty fingers, lovingly pulling his hair back and away from his face.

Going against everything his body was currently telling him, as well as Wade, Peter slowly pulled out with a hiss and started kissing him down his stomach.

“See ya,” Peter said then, glancing up at the man’s face before continuing to make his quick way down.

“Oh, fuck…”

Peter grabbed the base to Wade’s dick and brought his mouth to the tip. He teased putting it inside, but only ended up licking the underside instead, which had its effect, and did that for a bit. His greasy hand twisted around as Peter ever so slowly sank some of the hard length into his opened mouth, and the way Wade was reacting did nothing to calm himself down. The Merc’s lower stomach kept tightening underneath his other hand while he had a fist repeatedly slamming down as if punching the mattress.

“Holy shit, oh, fuck, ah…”

When Wade’s entire body started to tense up, Peter abruptly pulled his mouth away and climbed up the bed again. He hadn’t expected Wade to come the very moment his dick pushed its way back inside his walls, but maybe he should have. They crammed and tightened around him as though deliberately trying to keep him inside, although it was the exact thing Wade, who had not yet come down from his high, strived to do next.

“Shit, move, please, move,” he cried out, his eyes still closed but the soles of his feet very persistently digging into his back.

Wade appeared to be coming still when he began thrusting once more, but he couldn’t be sure how long that lasted since his eyes couldn’t keep open. However, Peter knew there couldn’t have been much time between that moment and the one where he buried his face in the man’s neck and released himself inside of him. He was aware that noises and maybe even words were coming out of his mouth, but he couldn’t hear them. It felt like it was going on for forever while still seeming way too short when he could open his eyes and could think a full sentence again.

Peter let himself fall on top of Wade, screw his bandages. They already looked like they need a change from the sweat that had gathered there, and especially with come now all over them. Wade’s arms went around his back, each hand clutching at a shoulder blade in a sticky embrace.

“Wow, would you look at that. I got two sore holes now,” Wade casually said, his breathing fast and harsh in the younger man’s ear.

“It’s a graze.”

“Don’t ruin it.”


	28. Not A Team-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another manic Monday in Peter’s life.

“Dude, your phone.”

Peter’s chin on his arms didn’t move an inch, nor did his eyes turned to the teenager sitting right beside him. Peter had been staring on the same page for so long that he could barely decipher the words on them anymore, and he had been blinking so slowly for the past ten minutes that he wouldn’t have been surprised to fall asleep on his desk right and there. The teacher’s voice almost sounded like muffled noises by this point of the class. His crossed arms were very comfortable, and judging by Harry’/s drooping eyes and chin propped on his arms as well, it appeared that Peter wasn’t the only one finding that Monday particularly difficult to get through.

“Mm?”

“It keeps buzzing. Fucking annoying,” Harry muttered so groggily that it sounded as though Peter’s cell phone was the only thing preventing him from taking a nap. “Make it stop.”

The buzzes weren’t as bad as Harry was letting on. There had only been four, but Peter had been too lazy to turn the phone around and look at the screen. Unless his aunt had forgotten he was in school at this hour, there was only one person he could think of that would text him at that time of the day and such a quick rate. Peter and Wade had spent the entire weekend trying to come up with a plan. They had stayed at his and May’s house, almost expecting Connors’ giant lizard form to break through the window now that he more than likely knew about his secret identity. It had been fun hanging out in his room as Wade shot ideas after ideas to him more ludicrous as the hours rolled by.

Especially that Sunday afternoon, when the man had laid down in the middle of the wooden floor, right under where Peter had started pacing around upside down on his ceiling. He could tell Wade hadn’t been listening to anything he had been saying at that time. He had been scrolling through his phone, and Peter had learned pretty quickly what he had been doing on there given Lionel Richie’s voice suddenly resounded in his bedroom in the form of _Dancing on the ceiling_. Adding Wade’s loud cackles to the song, Peter had been a bit slower picking up his aunt’s steps on the other side of his unlocked door. Therefore, his fast landing to the ground had been quite the unsought one for poor Wade who got most of the young man’s weight to his crotch. When May opened the door, she was met with the strange sight of Wade clutching at his sore groin and moving into a fetal position as Peter was trying to get up the floor as casually as possible.

“You’re never gonna get grandchildren,” Wade had groaned at the newcomer, his eyes tightly shut in pain.

“Will I have to establish a no-closing-your-door policy, Peter?” May had inquired to him, her hand still on the doorknob and her face seeming incredibly perplexed at the scene.

Peter couldn’t remember why his aunt had come in the first place, but he did recall her leaving the door wide open when she left.

Despite their intensive research for a plan of action, the two of them weren’t quite able to come up with one that wasn’t going to end badly for Connors. While Wade’s ideas usually involved using a variety of diverse weapons, like throwing a grenade in his lab with the scientist inside, Peter’s were considerably different. He hoped reasoning with Connors would work, but he knew, and that even before hearing his boyfriend’s realistic opinion on the matter, that it was probably a foolish thing to think and expect. However, Peter couldn’t help but hang on to the thought that there was still a chance that the man, his dad’s former associate, wasn’t too far gone yet. There was also the fact that he didn’t want him ending up in prison, but he knew that was better than death. Although, Wade did have some brilliant initiatives on some improvements Peter could add to his suit and web-shooters. Maybe not the ‘lethal webs’ that he so enthusiastically suggested that could pierce right through someone’s throat, but the web grenades sounded pretty rad.

When Peter’s phone vibrated again, Harry went to grab it on his desk, but he didn’t even get to touch it since Peter had been so quick to pick it up and put it out of his reach. Maybe a tiny bit too quickly, though, given the look the other teenager gave him. Peter hoped he would take it as a very eager and desperate attempt at not letting him see his boyfriend’s texts and not as something abnormal like superpowers. Although, Peter didn’t want his friend to see what was possibly messages about some plans to take down some mutated lizard who also happened to be one of his dad’s company’s most admired scientist.

“He can be pretty annoying, right? Wade?” Harry whispered over to him, the man’s name coming out weird in his mouth as if it was the first time he had pronounced it.

Peter shifted on his chair, his eyebrows frowning a little. He couldn’t remember ever complaining about that to Harry or either Gwen. Unless his friend could read his mind, and that, without even being in the same room as him, there was no way he had heard that from him.

“Huh? Who said that?”

“Gwen. She said he’s _very_ weird,” Harry replied, leaning over to him more so none of the other students would be able to hear. “She doesn’t like him very much.”

That was no news. Peter wasn’t surprised Gwen had gone and said some stuff to Harry since she would never mention Wade to him anymore since her family’s visit on Christmas Eve. It had taken a week and a half for her to stop giving him the cold treatment and look at him in the eyes again.

“I like him just fine,” Peter lowly said back. “He’s not uh- not your normal person. I guess.”

“You can’t be a ‘normal person’ and kill people for money, Pete.”

He shouldn’t have told them that, Peter reckoned then. At the time, it felt really good to brag to his friends about the older guy, who also happened to be a mercenary, that had taken an interest in him. He never thought it would turn out like this. Hell, he hadn’t even expected Wade to contact him again after that first night at the arcade, or ever, which was maybe one of the reasons why he had uncharacteristically kissed him before leaving him then. He had thought he would never see that very handsome and unusual stranger again.

“Gwen still won’t tell me what he said to her back at your house. She said it traumatized her. Did he, like, threatened her or something?”

 _Err, the anal thing_ , Peter remembered with an unpleasant shudder. The fact that Gwen could barely look at him in the eyes for a while probably had more to do with that one awful Wade comment back in the staircase than the argument he had had with her dad right after. And himself, knowing she had those images in her head now, hadn’t been too keen on talking to her for a little while there also. Their friendship was changed forever now, and if it was for better or worse, Peter couldn’t tell yet. There were some things you didn’t necessarily want to hear about your friends, and learning they were regularly doing anal with a twenty-six years old mercenary surely was one of them.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s something you wanna know,” Peter vaguely answered, definitely way more determined than Gwen could ever be about never mentioning that moment to anyone. “But he didn’t threaten her! He doesn’t go around threatening everyone and anyone! For all I know…” he indignantly continued, trying to keep his voice down.

“Yeah, okay.” Harry appeared unconvinced, but what he said next took the other teenager more by surprise than he would like to admit. “We should all go out together and do something fun. The three of us with your guy.”

Peter scoffed, and the girl in a long ponytail sitting in front of the two of them turned her head to give them a brief annoyed look.

“You’re joking, right?”

“Partially, yeah,” Harry silently chuckled. “Though, with everything I’ve heard, I’m kind of curious about the dude that has been taking all of my best friend’s time. All I see are the pictures in your locker. And I really wanna know what Gwen’s face will look like all night!”

Peter was about to protest but quickly reconsidered. Harry couldn’t know most of his time was spent swinging around in the city rather than with Wade, though, he could admit that was where he was usually at when out of his suit. _Yeah, maybe he’s right._ Imagining them all in the same room, without the technicality of a funeral or their eventual Graduation, was weird to him and probably why that had yet to happen. Faced with the choice to go out with his friends or not, Peter could only imagine the Merc’s reaction going to two different extremes. Either he was going to excitedly suggest a bunch of places where the four of them could go, _or_ he would dismissively suggest a bunch of places the three teenagers could go.

“He would like that way too much,” Peter decided.

By the time there were only five more minutes before the bell rang, the opened page of Peter’s notebook was scattered with tiny dots from his black pen. He was pretty confident that if he were to unroll the side, it would be the one with the Wade’s _‘you got a butt that won’t quit!’_ scribble in it, but he was way too cautious of the many other students in the same room to check. Even though it was probably the tamest message out of the many other pens that Wade had given him for Christmas next to the very simple _‘your face is nice’_ one.

He didn’t have to wake Harry, who had been drooling all over his closed notebook for the past fifteen minutes since the bell did the job for him. They bumped into Gwen as she was retrieving some books from her locker for her last class of the day. Peter followed after Harry as he made his way toward her, his steps revigorated from his nap.

“Hey, Gwen, guess wha-”

Harry was cut short, and at first, it seemed like he didn’t even know why himself. The ground had started shaking under their feet. They didn’t have time to wonder about a possible earthquake before a massive chunk of a wall came crashing down right where the boys’ bathroom was supposed to be. What could only describe as a monster went through the new opening, towering over the two rows of lockers in the hallway, its weirdly-shaped head nearly reaching the ceiling. Peter recognized it immediately, and it appeared to be doing the same for him. Among all of the other running students, its human-like yellow eyes seemed wholly set on Peter, which momentarily made the long scratches under his clothes starting to sting.

A hand wrapped itself around Peter’s arm trying to pull him backward where everyone else was frantically fleeing. He ignored it, his stare not leaving Dr. Connors’ on him as he walked toward its massive lizard form. His tall, muscular green trunk was moving up and down with his furious breaths. He growled at Peter. His jaw was unusually large, but his teeth were tiny and sharp. However, it was the long, razor-sharp claws at the end of his rough looking limbs that Peter had the most disdain for. Somehow, he looked even scarier in the bright daylight of his school than in the darkness of the sewers.

“PETER?”

When it sounded like everyone had left the hallway, including, Peter hoped, his two friends, he started running, the web-shooters under his sleeves at the ready. He sent a web to the Lizard’s raised hand and slid between its giant legs. It didn’t do much and, before he knew it, his backpack was tossed to the floor away from him and his entire body thrown hard to the trophy showcase. The glass broke into thousand pieces under his back, and he was smashed through the wall behind it. Peter’s breath got caught in his chest as his back hit and went sliding against the floor of an empty science class.

“Nowhere to hide, Peter,” Connors’ chilling voice echoed inside the classroom after he had made his way through the broken wall after him.

Each of his steps made the ground slightly shake under Peter before he stopped to stand over him menacingly. His backpack was still in eyesight in the hallway, and right as he shot a web at it, Connors’ mutated hand took a tight hold of his upper body again before projecting him into another wall. This time, he landed among science supplies that fell to the ground beside him.

“Come on! That’s getting old, already,” Peter muttered to himself on his sore back, already searching for his suit as well as his cell phone inside of his backpack.

The phone only rang once before someone answered.

“Hey, are you busy?” Peter asked before Wade had any chance to let a single word out.

“Don’t think so! How’s my favorite person doing?”

“Uh, not great, not great,” he replied, his back loudly cracking as he straightened up, already down to his underwear. “I’m in a closet.”

“You couldn’t find the bathroom?”

Wade’s voice was loud in the small, pitch-dark closet. Peter let his phone on the floor and speaker-mode as he hurried to put on his suit, the lit-up screen his only help finding his bearings. Peter didn’t quite know what had pushed him to call Wade in the first place. It could be the Merc’s continual assertion that he was going to be part of the action had ended up getting to him, after all. Maybe he had warmed up to Wade’s “we’re a team!” mantra for a good second the other day, but Peter still couldn’t feel anything else other than reticence on the matter. He knew it was his way too high and possibly foolish faith in Wade and his capacities, _how big his head would get hearing about that_ , that had forced his hand to dial. Also, the severity of the situation also had some things to do with it. If Wade kept his distance, lead him out of the school’s grounds with one of his _devices_ , it would be fine, Peter hoped.

“Do you happen to be near my school, right now, per any chance?”

“For plot convenience, I guess I am. Why?”

There was some distressed muttering on the other end, as though somebody injured was in the same room as Wade. Straightaway, the man, his mouth away from his phone, indeed addressed someone else.

“It’s the boyfriend I told you about! Told ya he would answer to my texts at some point!”

“Well, I don’t have any time to explain, but let’s just say…”

As if he had been feeling excluded, Connors’ abnormally gravelly and cryptic voice came from the classroom. “All these souls… lost and alone. I can save them. I can cure them. There’s no need to stop me, Peter.”

Peter pulled the top of his suit over his head at the fastest pace he had managed yet.

“What the fuck was that?” Wade shouted into the phone, then. “He’s here? At your school? Creepy bastard. I knew he was a bad dino _à la_ Barney and not _à la_ T-Rex.”

“You’re not thinking straight, doc!” Peter yelled out, his hand desperately feeling around in the dark inside of his backpack among the books there in search for his mask.

A growl reverberated through the closet.

“Don’t let him put anything inside of you, you hear me?” Wade told him as Peter threw a piece of broken wall at the lizard’s head, his other hand pulling his mask over his head.

“Wade, I need you to distract him out! But don’t-”

Peter didn’t have time to wonder if Wade had gotten the general idea of his plan, or anything at all, since he suddenly had to jump out, leaving his cell phone behind with the mini explosive Connors had concocted. He landed on the nearing desk and precipitately shot two webs at the lights above the Lizard, making them crash into his hard, scaly back. Again, it appeared to do nothing to him except making him madder.

“Let’s talk this out,” Peter said to the scientist through his mask, but it felt as pointless as trying to reason with a nameless feral dog.

Connors only snarled in response and launched at him. Peter jumped off the desk, which then was crushed by the creature’s force, and hopped on his broad back. Peter sent webs after webs at his ugly face, arms and tall legs as he stumbled on the latter, leading the two back to the emptied hallway.

“This… isn’t… you!” Peter said as he continued wrapping Connors into synthetic webs. “Doc!”

Just when Peter thought he had incapacitated the Lizard enough for him to stop moving, he violently launched backward into some lockers, crushing Peter between the two. The young man fell off his scaly back and into the floor and, and watched as he easily brought his arms and legs free from their cocoon.

“Fine! You don’t want to talk?” Peter shouted, and he was only given a row of sharp teeth and some splashes of spit. He sent a web directly at the screaming mouth. “There you go.”

Peter rolled on the floor, barely avoiding to get caught between the creature’s claws again. He propelled himself onto the ceiling beside the row of working lights there. Connors’s tail smashed directly into one while trying to get to him, the two long lightbulbs exploding right beside Peter’s face. He brought an arm up to his eyes in reflex, before crawling further down the ceiling, the scientist’s strong tail crashing every single other lightbulb as he went until they were left in a relatively dark hallway.

“Stop this!” Peter shouted, but nothing. “As you will.”

Peter boosted himself down, his feet colliding right into the back of the Lizard’s hard head. The latter was stunned for barely two seconds before he jumped into action again, grabbing Peter by his ankle and throwing him like a ragdoll into one row of lockers. The Lizard was standing in front of the opposite one, and Peter took it as an opportunity to stuck, using his web-shooter, at least one of its enormous hands against the metallic surface. Peter knew it wouldn’t take long at all before he would free himself, but what he honestly hadn’t expected to happen was that it would forge his assailant the perfectly sharp and metallic weapon to decapitate him in one good swing. The long part of the lockers doors still stuck to the Lizard’s hand was like a new long and menacing extension to his already intimidating limb.

“Oh, boy.”

Peter felt the air on his belly as Connors swung one at him. It was at that moment that he was the most confused about if he was regretting having called Wade for help or not. Especially now that it would be incredibly easy for him to end up impaled trying to match up with the Lizard’s zealous strikes, if Peter’s struggles with it was anything to go by. It took about five other close calls prevented by a few cartwheels around the place before he successfully jumped over Connors’s large build and land on his back. Peter slid down at the sheer force of his fast motions trying to get him off him. Peter grabbed the tail with both arms, but it quickly started swinging around and hitting him against the walls and standing lockers. At least it seemed like he had given up using his improvised weapon. However, Peter’s conflicting emotions were brought right back when, after some good minutes of clutching desperately to the moving tail, he started hearing quick steps in the corridor right beside theirs and got a feeling deep down that he exactly knew who it could be.

A man’s figure, slightly blurry by the constant movement Peter was in, appeared at the end of the hallway. Wade was heavy-breathing so hard and so loudly that it was a miracle Connors hadn’t yet noticed him, though he seemed thoroughly busy sneering and looking behind him for the teenager glued to his unpleasant skin. Sweat was covering Wade’s red face, and he looked like he was about to pass out when he took the few steps toward Peter and the provoked creature, but his hands were strong and steady when it sliced right through the tail. He did it exactly as it was making a vigorous sway to the right, and it sent Peter flying, as well as the cut-off limb still between his arms, through the door on the other end of the hallway. Peter landed on his side into another empty one, the many windows decorating the walls blinding him with renewed, natural light.

“This is disgusting!” Peter let out, dropping the continuously moving tail onto the floor beside him before standing up.

“Pete! It’s growing back! PETE!” Wade was calling out from the dark hallway where a furious inhuman growl could also be heard. “UGLY FUCKER!”

Peter started running toward the opened door, but as he was about to get back through it, he bumped so hard against Wade that it nearly got him tumbling back to the ground. He had one sword in his hand, the blade inexplicably lacking any of Connors’ blood, while the other sat in the holster around his back. Wade’s breaths were coming out even harder than when he had first arrived, and his eyes seemed about to burst out of his head. He was wearing what appeared to be a washed-out Hawaiian shirt under his jacket, with black jeans that Peter knew for a fact was covering a bandage that was itself concealing his bullet wound from three days ago.

“How did you get here so fast? How did you know where we were?” Peter hurriedly asked him, grabbing both of the man’s shoulders to lead him further down the opened corridor and away from the approaching Lizard.

“Told you I wasn’t far! Don’t question the Lampshade when it just saved your ass!”

“And you just had your swords ready with you?” Peter incredulously questioned then, trying to ignore the fact that it was pretty much exactly what he had wanted to happen when he had first seen Wade’s shadow appear.

“Yeah? I was about to make some human kebab before you called.” Wade shrugged, his grip visibly tightening around his weapon’s handle as he kept glancing from Peter’s face to the door. “It gave me some ideas for our Lizard-friend situation. I sent you about a hundred-”

A good part of the wall in front of the two men crashed down. The Lizard had pushed against the door with so much force that he had to shake some broken pieces of the concrete off his shoulders, as well as a lot of dust, as he made his way toward them, his yellow stare piercing through Peter’s mask. There was indeed a new oversized tail on his back, and maybe it was Peter’s imagination, but it seemed even more alarmingly wild than the last one.

“Well, that was just unnecessary,” Peter commented as he brought an arm up to push Wade behind him more. “Somebody’s being a bad lizard!”

“Pete, sweetie… you really gotta improve the witty comments,” Wade said. His wide eyes went to the sharp metallic weapon still clearly sticking to the Lizard’s hand by thick spiderwebs. “Why does he have that?”

“Don’t look at me,” Peter replied as he shot a web at the ceiling for some momentum. “You should go, now. I got it.”

Peter’s feet hit the Lizard’s head again, right in between his forehead, but as it did so, he was barely quick enough to dodge the sharp tip of the improvised blade. He felt his suit tear at the calf and a subsided sting there.

“Clearly,” he heard Wade muttering.

Wade threw one of his swords to land directly into Connors’ massive mutated leg. It didn’t quite pierce through, but it was enough to elicit a prolonged wail out of his mouth. Peter took the opportunity to strike another one at his head, causing the Lizard to stumble forward on his feet and long toes, the young man hanging on to his back. The brief satisfaction the young man felt at that moment was cut even shorter as he witnessed Wade making a run for it with a worryingly determined expression on his face, his other sword firmly up between his two hands. It was too late for him to make any protest before the blade slashed through the Lizard’s wrist. The hand as big as a trash lid fell to the floor with the broken piece of locker doors attached to it. The Merc precipitately took back his sword from the Lizard’s leg as he roared in pain and anger.

“Oh, sweet! I’m gonna switch for that, thank you!” Wade said, putting back both swords in their holster before snatching the weapon from the severed hand. “You can take Bea and Arthur if you want. Just kidding.”

“Try not killing him, please?” Peter told Wade as they both watched the Lizard’s missing hand growing back at an alarmingly fast rate.

Peter started shooting webs at his eyes and mouth, trying to throw him off the slightest more.

“It’ll always grow back!” Wade retorted, seizing the new weapon in his hand as though it was a brand-new and shiny one that he had bought for himself. “But don’t worry, Cheesecake. I don’t think I’m gonna have the upper hand here.”

Connors was effectively scratching the synthetic off his face with the sharp claws of his brand-new hand. Wade then appeared to be about to charge toward them in the manner of knight playing in a jousting tournament, his metal lance supposed to pierce right through the Lizard’s enormous torso. Unfortunately, the receiving end in this realized Wade’s plan of action very quickly and, with a swipe of the back of his hand, tossed the man like he was a mere fly. Wade went crashing into the wall, avoiding the window right above and the weapon leaving his hand and sliding on the floor far away from him.

“See!” Wade said as though it was an appropriate situation to feel proud about being right.

“Wade, just go!” Peter shouted, but was thrown off by his ankle to smash against the same wall as the other man.

He felt even more on edge now that Wade was here, as though the stakes had gone up way too high now that it wasn’t just him involved. Like every of the man and the Lizard’s move was sending a nervous shock down his spine warning him of the lethal strike that would bring an end to Wade’s life or injure him without repair. His head didn’t appear to have taken the shock, but the next one could. Next time, Wade could be at the end of that blade or impaled by claws, and it would all be his fault _._ That thought was enough to make Peter want to repeatedly bang his own head against one of the windows for being the one having brought him into this. Wade remembered that too.

“You called me here! Nobody ever told you it’s impolite to lead a man on?” Wade grouchily reminded him as they were both detaching themselves off the wall and ungracefully standing up.

“You were supposed to distract him out! Not walk right into him!”

“Oh, sorry! You could’ve let me know that, then!”

“I didn’t have the ti- Shoot!”

The Lizard emitted an enraged growl before, to the two men’s bewilderment, rushing toward Wade and grabbing him by the neck. A wave of panic nearly strong enough to paralyze him completely ran through Peter’s entire body as he watched the other man being lifted him off the ground, leaving his feet to dangle in the air trying to kick the scaly body of his attacker. Connors was pushing the back of Wade’s head and shoulders so hard against the window behind it that they could faintly hear the glass starting to break.

“I’ve seen you before,” Connors noted, his shiny yellow eyes studying Wade’s face two inches away from it. “The impertinent man in my lab. Mocking my handicap.”

“Your CGI was… less jarring… in the dark,” Wade let out with great difficulty, punching with both fists at the strong arm keeping him up.

“Somebody should teach you a lesson.”

“ _No!_ No, don’t kill him!” Peter yelled, snapping out of his panicked state with as much force as if someone had thrown a bucket of frozen water over his head.

“Are you talk- talking… to me?” Wade joked, but the lack of air coming to his lungs was kind of ruining it.

Peter hurried to get behind the Lizard as he had started squeezing even more around Wade’s throat. He sent a web to the rejected cutting piece of metal and seized it between his hands with way more rage than he had anticipated. He cut an unsuspected tail off Connors’ back and hesitantly replaced the dangerous weapon in his hands with the long limb.

“Look, Wade, he’s got a bigger tail than you!” Peter called out, his tone slightly dryer than he had wanted it to be.

“Yeah, but… does he know how to… use it?” Wade squeaked out.

Wade’s face had gotten much paler and his punches weaker on the Lizard arm. Peter jumped high enough so his first hit with the severed tail, using the bigger end, would be directed to the creature’s ear, and didn’t end it there. Peter put all of his strength into each hit to his head, back, shoulders, legs, and arms, not stopping even after he was stunned enough to drop his hold on Wade’s neck. The man slid down the wall, and Peter walloped Connors in the stomach to get him away from Wade for good. He tried getting a swipe at him with his regrown tail, but Peter was quick enough with his own to strike him at the back of his chin instead, sending him stumbling backward and almost down.

“Apparently, yes…” Wade gasped from the floor, massaging his sore throat as he watched Spider-Man in appreciative awe.

“Stop hitting yourself!” Peter repeated a few times at the snarling beast with each new blow.

He could hear challenging coughs coming out of Wade where his joyful laughs would be. It sounded like it was tearing his chest in two. Peter was fuming, and he had to fight against the urge to grab the chunk of metal he had left on the floor or one of the man’s swords in their holster and slice into Connors with it instead. Tearing him to pieces by cutting each of his mutated limbs off, the knowledge that they would regrow back having nothing to do with it. It was a very brief yet powerful thought that disappeared as quickly as it had appeared after passing through his brain like a flash of lightning. Peter had shut it down and buried it before it could grow.

“You can’t stop me, Parker!” Connors bellowed right before getting a stray of webs in his eyes, which was quickly followed by a powerful jab to the middle of his thick throat.

“Watch me, doc!” he retorted, leaving the severed tail to start rapidly wrapping the Lizard in webs like he had strived to do before.

Wade cackled weakly from his position against the wall. He appeared to have made multiple attempts at getting off the floor by pulling himself up with a hand on the same window, now sporting a few small cracks on its glass, his head and shoulders had been pushed into. Peter was tempted to stick Wade there just so he couldn’t try getting involved anymore, but he knew that could only make it worse. Magically teleporting him outside was also something that was literally out of his power, and he had his hands way too full to throw him out the window safe. Not that Wade would ever let him do that without leaving a few nasty bites on him and reproaching it to him for all of eternity.

Ultimately, Peter was glad he didn’t do any of that when Connors, now so entirely covered in webs that what was rest of him looked like some kind of giant-sized caterpillar cocoon, was debilitated enough for his feet to be the only thing moving anymore. With the handle to his sword, Wade suddenly broke the glass to the window behind him, giving the other man an idea. Their eyes met in understanding. Wade nodded and dived to the ground behind the Lizard’s ankles just as Peter sprang to kick him, both feet pushing hard in the middle of where his chest would have been.

Some surprised screams and exclamations were emitted outside with the sound of Connors’ massive mutated body hitting the pavement. Peter took Wade’s arm as he was standing up to help him.

“So, that plot was over quick,” Wade remarked, rubbing his aching throat as he looked down the broken window.

“What makes you say that… oh, he’s turning back.”

Connors’ body was in the process of shrinking down through the now oversized cocoon. The man laid unconscious as there were already many people, mostly curious students, and cautious policemen, running over and surrounding him. Peter felt like he could take a breath for the first time in half an hour. Heat was surrounding his mask as he took the long, satisfying intakes of breath he had been longing for. It itched to take it off, but it wasn’t quite safe to do yet.

“Is he-”

“He’s gonna be fine,” Wade croaked out dismissively.

“Are you?”

Peter turned away from the window to take a look at the man beside him. He took off his gloves before taking Wade’s head in his hands, his fingers spread out over his jaws. While he looked more disheveled than usual, there wasn’t any blood among his short hair, though Peter had the suspicion that he would be sporting one great of a pump there the next day. His neck, however, was already displaying a weird-shaped bruise decorated with a few red scratches all the way down to the collar of his Hawaiian shirt now missing a few buttons.

“Son of a bitch teared up one of my favorite shirts!” Wade let out in an angry whisper. “Your villains are always the weirdest. I gotta get used to mutated animals and shit. It’s gotta be a huge-ass upgrade from trigger-happy mullet guys.”

“You won’t have to.”

“Was our first proper team-up! Spider-Man and his lesser half Wade Wilson mercenary extraordinaire!” he exclaimed then, his voice cracking heavily. “I’m sure that’s how everyone will be referring to our duo as forever.”

“Nope. Never happening again,” Peter declared, shaking his head and moving his hands to the torn fabric of Wade’s shirt to try covering a bit of the massive cleavage the man now had. “Not putting your life at risk like that again.”

“Is it my ass-tearing headache or am I the only one seeing the dazzling irony that just walked into the room?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one is going to sprawl over several months and is practically the thing I’ve been waiting for a literal year, so if this one seems rushed it’s because it kind of was lol


	29. Now and Then (Heaven)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade reminisces over some of his best memories of the last few months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very nearly cut the whole karaoke night bit cause it’s so ridiculous, but fuck it here’s the playlist lmao: https://open.spotify.com/user/34nozsfnvqf81nfbdyrlp4gtj/playlist/0BwIS7rEkqsMYvQUc3YBjf?si=Keb-y_82Srml-a7cEvwmjA

The chairs they were currently sitting on weren’t as bad as the one they had to wait on for the last few endless hours. Peter’s hands were clammy, but felt like a vice around his, keeping him from bolting out of the room. His eyes were staring straight ahead, yet Wade’s wouldn’t leave his face. He knew the numbers of times he would be able to do that were numbered now. It was all crashing down on him, the last couple of months. Like a thousand bricks were thrown at his face at once. What were the happiest memories of his life had transformed inside of that room into cutting fragments only there to cruelly cut him up, because how could he for one second have thought this wasn’t going to end prematurely in one way or the other? That everything, every last amount of happiness he had been able to gather in the last year wasn’t going to get ripped away from him? It all felt like a lucid dream – way too fucking good to be true.

Some patterns were never going to break, and he should have remembered. When life was looking up, it could only go down from there on.

He remembered having put a lot of effort in for Valentine’s day. He had wanted to. Peter had been very nonchalant about the whole thing, telling him that it wasn’t a big deal. It could have been enough to relent Wade’s ardor, at least just a little bit, but it had only gotten him into the spirit even more by creating a challenge in his head that consisted of pulling the biggest moves that would force the teenager to admit that he was wrong. Though Wade did ponder for a bit over simply introducing the prospect of bondage to Peter instead, but given that he had already had one specific request being rejected in the near past at the time, he stuck to his first plan. While Wade would never admit it, not even now, Peter did have a pretty good excuse for his disdain at the prospect of using his web-shooters anywhere near the bedroom.

“Okay, imagine having a… gun? One that you use all the time. Your job is practically impossible without it. And then, you go and use it to- uh, no, no, no, no. Not working. Lemme start over…” Peter had babbled on for a good ten minutes trying to get to his point without alluding to any firearms being inserted into human holes again. “It would make every altercation sexually charged in my head! I don’t want to think about bondage when I’m sticking a criminal to some wall!”

“If every one of your altercations doesn’t have a sexually-charged awkward, confusing vibe, are you sure you’ve been doing it correctly?”

Valentine’s day had fallen on a Sunday, so Peter had been on patrol throughout most of it. To assure that he would show up for sure, Wade had sent him a picture that would have made for very good blackmail. He blamed it on the numerous websites he had skimmed through days beforehand in his quest to find what other people usually did on that holiday. The bits of advice Wade had gotten from them had pretty much amounted to the same thing: to do nice stuff that you wouldn’t normally do like, for instance, the one thing that kept coming back in every list he had stumbled into, which was ‘offering to rub your partner’s feet.’ It must be essential for some reason.

Wade had ended up buying some food he had never heard before to make something he had never known existed, because of some list of special meals to cook your significant other and shit. Perhaps he had been way too audacious, since he had not left his kitchen all that afternoon, covered in sweat and maybe even a few tears. The choice to get naked under his apron had turned out to be more for the heat coming from his stoves rather than for the effect it was supposed to give Peter like a lot of the websites had told him. Though, Peter had texted him at some point that he would be coming in late, so he did have the time to finish. Moreover, he even had plenty of time to clean up his entire place, something he had also read was supposed to be a good move from his part. Although they weren’t living together, as well as not being a married straight couple with a very unbalanced chore system like he suspected the marriage of every single one of those people making those lists was.

“If your ass isn’t sitting on that counter in the next twenty minutes, we’re done, mister!” Wade remembered saying in his last voicemail of the night to Peter. “No, we’re not. I’m just gonna eat all of those moles, by myself. _Moh lay_? Anyway, nobody wants to see that.”

When Peter finally came in through his window, it was pitch-black outside, and Wade very nearly screamed at the seemingly giant white duck that was invading his apartment. Peter’s Spider-Man suit was covered in head to toe in white feathers as he walked through the living room without saying anything, which probably had to do with the few ones he spat out once he took his mask off. Peter went to sit on the kitchen counter among the food and plates, looking surprised as he took in the place and Wade’s work.

“Here I am. It’s so late, I’m so sorry! Sorry…” Peter was unstoppable once he started apologizing, and half of the annoyance present in Wade had already vanished. “It’s gonna sound like a made-up excuse, but there was-”

Wade had crossed the three steps that were separating him from standing right in between those red and blue legs and had lifted a finger to Peter’s lips to prevent him from defending himself any further.

“Some gags are better without any explanation or in a quick montage,” Wade whispered, before replacing his finger on Peter’s mouth with his own.

The warm welcome was enough to erase the other half.

“You’re definitely naked under that,” Peter scoffed, having pulled away from the kiss after having felt under the other man’s _classy_ apron which he also had a hold on by the strap going around his neck.

“And you’re putting dirty-ass feathers all over my food.”

By that point, Wade had already turned off his sexy playlist, which had only gotten incredibly annoying for the number of times it had started over. After Peter’s shower and change of clothes, they had ended up both eating seated on Wade’s not so cleaned kitchen counters. The young man didn’t have anything negative to say about the food, though maybe he had been too busy playing with and gushing over his new camera that Wade had bought to replace the way less expensive one he had lost in the sewers the month before. Wade watched him as he was already taking pictures, putting some sauce on it in the process.

“Sorry, I didn’t get you anything. I had flowers, but they must have fallen off.” Peter gave him a sad, apologetic shrug. “And I’m poor.”

“The new job doesn’t have you quite rolling in wealth, yet? I told you to start doing birthdays and bachelor parties.”

Peter had gone back to delivering pizza once again, believing there was no way he wouldn’t be faster, while it didn’t mean technically better, at it now. Upon hearing the news, Wade had immediately gotten the idea of recreating their first meeting, and he hadn’t been able not to share it with him. It hadn’t gotten the best reaction out of Peter who had merely exclaimed a “don’t you dare!” before making him promise that he would never do it. The guy was lucky Valentine’s day hadn’t fallen on his workday since you could have been sure that would have been his grand gesture. Wade still couldn’t feel any regret for putting all of those efforts in since it did get him, despite the lack of web-shooter usage, perhaps the most glorious fuck of his life. His night had ended with him getting to look at his kitchen counter at an angle he had never seen it before, and had gotten him to never look at the whole thing the same way again. Of course, he had kindly asked to rub Peter’s feet after.

Someone could say Wade had broken his promise the first time he had purposefully called Peter’s new pizza place on a night where he knew he would be on service.

“Hey,” Wade had suavely said while opening the front door to his apartment stark naked. “Hope you didn’t put any extra stuff on these, because I got the extra sausage right here.”

Peter had let out a deep sigh and pushed the two pizza boxes in the older man’s arms without a word and without granting his well-thought-out opening line any response. Wade quickly dropped them behind him to continue his seductive lean against the doorframe.

“I’m so glad that’s you and not somebody else. That would’ve been awkward.”

“Yeah,” Peter firmly agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I made sure it was me.”

Wade vaguely remembered thinking, then, that he looked a lot like he did in one of the pictures May had shown him during one of their, what he would call, dinners-without-a-Peter. It was one where he was around ten years old and was trying to impersonate and mock his uncle behind the camera by looking the grumpiest possible. The fact that still no facial hair would show up wasn’t hurting the comparison in the slightest.

Wade moved even closer to be able to touch the name tag on the young man’s vest.

“Oh, so you’re taking the role as sexy pizza boy number one, then, um… Peter? I love a man in uniform.” Wade said, reading the name on the tag like he was learning about it for the first time.

“No, I only did it because I knew you would pull something like that!”

“Just a quickie!” Wade almost pleaded, abruptly breaking out of character.

Wade loosely recalled having then made a move to nibble at Peter’s neck or something resembling that or, at least, as embarrassing. Even at that time, he had regretted having drunk all of that alcohol earlier that night, but not as much as now since the memory was all fuzzy in his head. And it really wasn’t how he wanted Peter to remember him as. A sex craze monster, that was.

“It’s never quick with you! You’re gonna have to wait,” Peter had told him, gently pushing him away. “Please, give me the money so I can keep that job.”

While he couldn’t tell where he had pulled them from, Wade did slip a few banknotes in the front pocket of the other man’s vest, his tip very generous, but perhaps not nearly big enough for the disturbance. As he did, Peter glanced down from his face, and his head tilted while his mouth slightly opened as though he had only just realized something he should have long ago.

“Do you shave your chest?”

“Interview over!”

Peter had closed the door for him, his smug face the last image the older man had seen that night before passing out on the floor next to the two hot boxes, his right arm laying across them. Waking up with his arm pretty much boiling and a disgustingly sour taste in his mouth was something he really wouldn’t miss.

The next few times Wade did it, he made sure the order wouldn’t be coming from his home, and every time he had been lucky enough for it to have been an exasperated Peter delivering not-that-good pizzas, to begin with, to his random location. He never went as far as to involve any third party, therefore making it the perfect recreation he wanted, although, not once had Peter ever looked glad to realize Wade was, again, the one he was delivering to. It was a shame because Wade’s sole purpose, at the beginning at least, had been in the innocent craving for some cheese and to see the guy. Though Wade could admit that purpose had gradually mixed with the one to see how riled up he could get Peter without him dumping his ass. Sometimes Wade would even call about three times in the same night, and he only stopped doing it for good after Peter had, indeed, threatened him with breaking up with him and getting him permanently banned.

(22:46) **I’m horny**

(22:50) **_You’re always horny_**

(22:50) **Not after Chili’s I’m not**

But there were also other times where Wade had been lucky enough to catch Peter on a frisky night too since, soon after exchanging those texts, he did end up getting the visit of an empty-handed delivery guy.

“Where’s the pizza?”

“Shut up.”

Weirdly enough, Wade had known he was about to score when instead of taking his time, Peter dropped all of his stuff on the floor next to the front door and picked him like it was him who thought they were in a motherfucking porno this time. It had escalated pretty quickly. However, only after he had already taken all of his clothes off and was sitting on the guy’s naked lap, licking a particularly lovely chunk of skin on his neck did he realized that Peter might have been more tired than horny.

“Was that a fucking yawn?”

When he detached his lips away from his skin to give him a deadpan stare, Peter was rubbing his right eye with his fist. He had huge bags under them like he usually had. His hand then joined his other one at the back of Wade’s head where he softly scratched the fuzz there apologetically.

“No, no, no, it’s not you! It’s just I’ve not slept in twenty-two hours.”

“If you fall asleep on me, I don’t think I would be able to take it well. I might have to go back to Canada and start over.”

“I won’t... If you do it right,” Peter had chuckled like he had taken some drugs before opening the door.

“I was missing a good challenge today.”

He remembered the smile Peter had on as he was being pushed down the bed. His head didn’t quite hit the pillow, but it seemed to be the last thing on both of their minds as the older man was already yanking off his boxers and spreading his legs. Wade stayed there awhile, listening to Peter’s whines as he licked and sank his teeth hard on the flesh on the inside of his thighs like they were his last meal on death row and dug his fingers into them. He left it red and bruised, his legs trembling under his hands and his hips unevenly bucking up. Wade climbed up his body again and, ignoring the best he could his hardening dick rubbing against the other’s, and did the same to his hips, stomach, scarred chest and both collarbones until he almost completely forgot about their unsaid bet.

He didn’t know since when exactly had his hips started moving on top of Peter, but all he knew was that, _it was how it felt at the time_ , if he didn’t have his dick inside of him in the next minute he was going to die.

Even how completely out-of-service he looked and how much his hands were shaking, Peter insisted on prepping him, which Wade has to remark out loud, “what a gentleman.”

He couldn’t remember anybody ever being as gentle with him as Peter always was, and he didn’t want to think about what that made him feel. Peter’s slick hands had clamped around the top of his thighs as he lowered himself on him, and kept tightening as he fucked himself on him, but it was never to the point of making him feel like his skin was about to get tore off like he suspected was in his realm of abilities. The challenge Wade had given himself earlier came back to his mind when Peter’s eyes closed for those long seconds. He knew there was no way he could be falling asleep now, even though that would have made for a pretty good guilt trip story for the future, and that, if the memory of having sent his boyfriend to sleep by riding the life out of him wouldn’t have been enough for him to jump off a roof.

He leaned down and kissed his open mouth. Peter’s arms had wrapped around his back right before he sat down and switched things up to the point of turning him into a brainless goo.

Peter slept for about twelve hours after it and had asked him if that was all a dream when he finally woke up from his exhaustion and sex induced coma.

“You don’t have the imagination for that.”

“Beg to differ.”

The first time Peter had mentioned to him, in a very unconvincing offhand manner, the prospect of the two of them going out with his friends, Wade could recall very clearly relating to the girl being stabbed to death on the screen in front of them. His legs were stretched out on his coffee table as Peter’s head rested on his thighs while the rest of him was pretty much taking most of the couch’s surface. It was during one of those rare times where Peter hadn’t immediately fallen asleep upon the first ten minutes of movie night due to his exhausting week and unfortunate male genetics. Though he had been actively trying not to since that time where he had woken up realizing he had served as a holder for Wade’s boll of popcorn for the last hour.

“Harry has been bugging me with it for months,” Peter had explained, his head turning away from the TV to look up at the older man. “He starting to think I made everything up and hired an actor to play my Canadian boyfriend and take pictures.”

“You’ve been telling him off for months? You’re ashamed of me or something, sweetheart?” Wade had given a brief frown down to the other man. “You can tell me. I wouldn’t want you hanging out with my ‘friends’ either. Though, Gwen does look much tougher than most of the guys I know.”

“No, it just, uh… I didn’t think you would like hanging out with high schoolers.”

“Seniors are the craziest bunch, Peter. Like those,” Wade had replied, gesturing to the party happening on the screen, even though it had already started to become more of a bloodbath than anything remotely fun for any teenagers involved.

“And Gwen, well… she, um, she’s not technically a fan of you.”

“I’m not _technically_ a fan of her either. Not in that specific universe, anyway.”

Wade ignored the rolling eyes Peter gave him at the mention of his one-sided rivalry with the girl, though he did closely watch him as he stumbled over his every word right after.

“Because you scared her for life! And insulted her dad! Really, I didn’t tell you sooner because – don’t take it wrong – I was mostly scared you would say something, um, potentially risky, like you already did. They’re just not used to, uh… your style?”

“Can’t help it if I’m a funny guy!” Wade defended himself while punching the armrest with importance at every two words. “I’m fucking pleasant! A whole motherfucking threat to be around!”

Peter had busted out laughing at that and started repeatedly poking his belly and right side with his two hands like a curious cat pushing into something nicely squishy. The exact moment where it had been decided they would be going for sure on that particular night out wasn’t coming to Wade, but he would gladly take back the dread he remembered feeling that entire day over the excruciating and nauseous one he had right now. He had stopped at Weasel’s minutes before he was supposed to meet Peter, Harry and Gwen.

“Gimme something that’ll subdue this,” Wade had ordered to the bartender as he pointed down at himself, knowing deep down that it wouldn’t be any help diluting his raging personality nor his wrecked nerves.

“You know you’re asking the fucking impossible, right?”

After mixing a bunch of shit together without looking like there was a real purpose behind it all, Weasel had put a drink in front of him soon after anyway, which Wade couldn’t for the life of him say which name it had, but certainly would never try again even if it was the last beverage left on earth. The guy had even bothered to drop a cocktail umbrella in the orange tainted liquid that almost poked Wade in the eye as he swallowed the whole thing down in one energetic swig. It had felt precisely like fire running down his throat while his eyes seemed to stop working, and he had wondered for a hot second if he had just been poisoned.

Wade spat a little before blurting out, “do you think Peter secretly hates me?”

“Yeah.” Weasel picked up Wade’s cellphone and read out the last text the Merc had received seconds before from Peter, “I’m sure that’s what he meant when he said: _‘I know you’re probably worrying right now, but don’t. It’s okay if they don’t like you, even though I doubt they will after tonight, I’m just going to have to do it thrice as hard to balance it out,’_ end quote. Does he realize how that sounds?”

Weasel shuddered in disgust as he put the phone back down on the counter beside the small pool of Wade’s spit.

“He’s so poetic on paper.”

“Glad I could help,” Weasel emotionlessly replied while letting out the sigh of someone that wasn’t happy in the slightest.

“I DON’T GIVE A SHIT IF THEY HATE ME!” Wade abruptly yelled out at the top of his burning lungs before storming out of the bar to meet up with the three teenagers.

For a short moment, he had watched them all standing on the sidewalk before joining them, laughing about something he had hoped wasn’t about him and his delayed arrival. While Wade couldn’t for the life of him describe anything the other two had been wearing, he could still picture Peter in his dark-blue jacket and jeans looking almost as skin-tight as those red and blue tights of his. He was wearing his father’s glasses for no particular reason. _To make himself look the most handsome possible, perhaps? Pfft, so much for Peter ‘average bloke’ Parker._ It wasn’t cold that evening, but the chilly wind had kept messing up his hair and had given a reddish tone to his cheeks, as well as all of theirs, he supposed. His smile was pretty tame compared to the one he would be sporting for most of the rest of the night, but it was enough to force Wade’s feet to move.

Upon him approaching, Peter turned around as though recognizing his footsteps over anyone else, which Wade really wouldn’t put past him. _This freak._

“Hey, handsome.”

Peter stood on his toes to give a quick peck to his mouth and had a weird face on after. He had taken a hand off the inside of his jacket’s pocket to wipe the remaining drool on Wade’s chin as Gwen and Harry stood behind him. The two teenagers’ eyes were glued on them with a particular interest resembling the one those people filming those animal shows would have while watching a rare or unseen interaction between two mammals.

‘ _You look great just existing like that_ ,’ was what Wade’s hazy mind wanted him to blurt out to his boyfriend’s face. Instead, the word ‘hello’ also having, at that moment, completely left his vocabulary, he let out to all of them, “I’m so mad you guys can’t drink.”

“He drank before going here,” Peter revealed to the other two.

He didn’t look mad, just disappointed enough to make Weasel’s drink wanting to lurch out of him even more.

“How do you know?” Wade asked, offering him what he thought was an apologetic smile, but in actuality looked more like he hadn’t shit in days.

“Your breath smells like the Prohibition and Oscar the Grouch had a baby.”

“You stole that one from my book.”

Wade had then blown directly in the young man’s face, mainly in hope to shape that thin line back into a smile. But even though it worked, Peter had still given him a look saying ‘we’ll talk about this,’ which, at the time, had scared him a little bit.

Peter pushed his face away with a hand to his cheek as he joked, “don’t blow anywhere near gas. You might explode.”

“Stop quoting my own motto at me.”

They had gone to eat at an old school dinner only known by Gwen, which had gladly help with Wade’s fuzzy brain and horrid alcohol-fueled breath. But before that, the Merc had the brilliant idea to accost Gwen as the four of them were making their way there. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes were giving away a fair amount of panic when she saw him switching place on the sidewalk beside her with Harry. Wade had slowly walked backward and pushed the guy not as gently as he could have so he would be taking his place beside Peter.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Wade said to her without preamble. “I know I may have gone a little harsh on him, and that I probably shouldn’t have called out his performance issues, of which he _doesn’t_ have, of course. But you know, in my field of work, I get to hang out with Spider-Man a lot. I would even go as far as saying that we’re pretty tight. Letting-me-try-on-his-suit-when-he’s-not-looking tight. So, it’s a very touchy subject for me, as you can imagine.”

“I’m sure,” Gwen replied, staring straight ahead at the back of Peter’s head as if trying to create a telepathic connection with him that could save her from that situation.

“We may have had a rough start, with you perpetually trying to steal my boyfriend and all, but we’re friends now. By relation, at least! We don’t have to fight anymore!”

Cheerful, Wade brought an arm around her shoulders.

“What are you talking ab– please, don’t touch me,” Gwen told him.

Wade retracted his arm as quickly as if she had burned his skin with a blowtorch and gave her the same constipated-looking yet apologetic smile he had given Peter moments before. In a blink, Peter’s head had turned away at them upon hearing Gwen’s words with fiery eyes directed at him while he angrily mouthed, “what the hell are you doing over there?”

“Sorry!”

Wade took back his place beside Peter with his tail between his legs. Peter seemed to have appreciated him having made an effort to apologize to the girl, though, since he didn’t make any mean or reproaching comment about it, but only hooked his arm with his for the remaining of their walk in such a way that suggested that he wouldn’t let him try the same thing again. And since he did say exactly so a few days later.

Maybe it had been for the better that Gwen had sort of blew him off then, since he didn’t know what kind of shit he would have come up with before having sobered up. He had sat beside Peter on the bright red and creaky restaurant bench wordlessly stuffing his face with his and Peter’s fries, his wide, glossy eyes transfixed by the table in front of them and its many stains. _Don’t embarrass Peter in front of his friends, don’t embarrass Peter in front of his friends_ , he kept repeating to himself while more than likely not helping with the ‘psycho mercenary’ image Peter’s friends had of him. Wade listened to the three’s conversation, at some point relaxing a little and leaning back against the bench and stretching out his left arm so it would be laying across it behind Peter’s head.

He had to bite off his tongue a few times over when Gwen mentioned not having yet gotten used to the scientist that had taken Connors’ place at Oscorp. His recommendation letter didn’t have much weight anymore, so it appeared, because turning yourself into a monster-sized lizard and the regrowth of your lost limb apparently didn’t count as amazing science once you attempted killing some people and harmed some others. Like it was the first time she was voicing it to her friends, Gwen had seemed worried yet determined when she revealed that she was aiming for Oxford next year, and judging by the two boys’ reaction, it was. It was quite sweet the way Peter and Harry immediately went on about how there was no doubt whatsoever that she was going to get it, and it didn’t sound like they were lying about it either.

Only after Harry had switched the conversation to the last time the three of them had all gone out together, and Peter’s facial expression in response to it like he exactly knew what was coming every time that story was brought up, did Wade realize he couldn’t keep his mouth shut on that one.

“We went to that guy’s birthday party. Brett? You mustn’t remember, Pete, since you were pretty drunk, right? How drunk were you exactly?” Harry poked at the other teenager with almost the right amount of mean-spirited sarcasm that would have practically gotten him Wade’s soda spilled over his greasy head if it wasn’t from the information he had just provided him.

“Really?” Wade let out with grand interest. He was pretty sure that his eyes were glowing with sparkles and shiny stars, though he wasn’t sure even to this day if he had truly seen the flash of a smile directed at him from Gwen.

“I puked all over my uncle’s car,” Peter sighed dejectedly and with as much shame as if it had happened just the day before.

“And my shoes,” Gwen added with a grimace of profound recollection as she put her half-eaten cheeseburger down on her plate.

“After he had lectured all of us about alcohol for half an hour when he drove us there!” Harry said. The amount of skin he had to his cheeks wasn’t enough to contain his broad smile. “It was more than what my dad have ever told me my entire life!”

“He looked at me disappointingly for the whole week after that,” Peter said, holding back a laugh.

It was the first time Wade had heard him mentioning Ben without closing off even just a little bit, and that there was more amusement than melancholy present in his tone in a story involving his uncle. It could have always been that particular one.

“You had what?” Wade inquired, his head leaning down toward the younger man to look at him closer. “One? Two sips? A spoonful of cough syrup?”

“I’d never had alcohol before!” Peter defended himself, unmistakably not wanting in any way to disclose the information.

“I found him sitting alone in the backyard complaining about the chairs inside and how they were ‘too round and made of wood,’” Gwen sniggered.

“Of course, you’re _that_ guy at parties.”

Wade tickled the back of his neck with his index.

“Yeah, yeah…” Peter mumbled as he shoved the man’s finger away.

Everything, even down to the setting and the actual 50’s music playing, was telling Wade that he should be singing ‘tell me more, tell me more’ to the two teenagers, but they did anyway. By the time they left, Wade had enough embarrassing and compelling, perhaps only to him, stories about Peter added to the many other ones May had disclosed to him over the last few months, to write an entire book. Peter hadn’t seemed to enjoy very much the part where the three of them tried to find an appropriate title for it after the Merc had voiced that fact to them. There was some contentment present on his face seeing them all sort of bonding, even though it was more or less at his expense. Maybe it had been another reason why Peter hadn’t wanted this little ‘gathering’ to happen. Or it had precisely been what he had wanted and expected would happen since he did participate in telling some stories, some of them going all the way to their freshman year, grinning like a kid through all of it.

He had learned many things that night other than the fact that Peter couldn’t hold his liquor, but it was interesting nonetheless. He had had suspicions about that anyway and had been willing to wait to see Peter’s hidden party animal side for himself, which he doubted he ever will now. The fact that he wouldn’t even be able to see the guy’s 21st birthday came to him like another huge brick being smashed in his face sitting in that stupid chair while he gazed at Peter’s, and was enough to give that memory a bad aftertaste just like all the other ones. Just like he wouldn’t be able to witness the many other things he had planned for them. Things that only a few days ago was what, in all truth, was getting him through the fucking day and seemed just about a given at that point. Hell, his only scare, and what an already paralyzing one at that, had been for Peter’s premature death when out as Spider-Man, certainly not his. Of course, he would be the one to fuck it all up. _Fucking idiot._ If he were any more of a romantic, he would say that he was too blinded by love or some other cheesy shit like that. And yet he couldn’t argue with the hard and plain truth.

The whole _‘don’t embarrass Peter in front of his friends’_ thing had quickly been thrown away (although they had kind of did it for him, anyway) as he had caught sight of a karaoke bar and had led them all inside of it without any hesitation or remorse whatsoever. When they entered, the place was half packed, and an overweight guy was in the middle of singing _Broken Wings_ , his face bright red from apparently the plate of hot chicken wings he had brought up the stage with him as a small group of men drinking beers at a table cheered him up. When he walked down the stage with his empty plate, he was given money from all of them, undoubtedly having won his bet.

“Come on, you Mumford & Son loving bitch!”

Wade grabbed Peter’s hand to lead him to it before someone else could take their place before Harry and Gwen had even gotten through the front door behind them. He high-fived the chicken wings guy and jumped up the stage that couldn’t be higher than the first step of a set of stairs. You wouldn’t have believed he had confronted a seven feet tall mutated lizard a few weeks prior, judging by the face of pure terror Peter had while being dragged up there.

“You be Diana Ross, I got Richie,” Wade whispered in Peter’s ear as he pushed a plugged-up microphone into his hand. Peter kept shaking his head at him.

“What?”

‘ _Endless Love_ ’ Peter read beside him, but it was already too late. Wade cleared his throat into his mic and waved his arm at Harry and Gwen still at the back and, in fact, looking for where the two of them had disappeared to.

“My love, there's only you in my life…”

Someone that sounded a lot like Harry yelled out, “GAY!” even before Peter had opened his mouth.

“My – uh – first love…”

Throughout the entire thing, Peter’s eyes were sending daggers at him, saying, ‘I can’t believe you’re making me sing that in public,’ while rejecting the older man’s attempt at an improved choreography at every turn. He also wouldn’t stop wincing, and Wade wasn’t sure if it was for his poor vocal prowesses or the situation he had been forced into as a whole. They had learned later that Gwen had filmed all of it on her phone, and Wade had naturally asked her to send it to him whereas Peter looked mortified and ready to jump and snatch it away from her.

“My followers are gonna love it.”

Peter had fled the stage at the speed of light and went to sit at the table Harry and Gwen had managed to grab, unconsciously trying to hide his red face inside of his short jacket collar.

“I wanna dedicate this one to this dipshit right here,” Wade, now having the stage all for himself, had announced to his mildly interested crowd. “He can’t sing, or dance, or even get dressed in the morning for shit, but we still love him! You need a fucking map just to get out of those eyes!”

Perhaps Wade had touched himself a bit too suggestively for the audience that he had during his _Wind Beneath My Wings_ solo, nor did that particular song deserve it, but it wasn’t like he was going to have any regrets about it just like he didn’t have any then. The mortification on Peter’s face, itself hid behind his right hand, stayed throughout his entire performance and the two others after that, all the more intensified every time Wade would stare and signal right at him. The Merc had this hunch that he had been the one that had sent Harry and Gwen up the stage to push him off it, but he forgot to ask. When he had finally sat his ass down beside Peter at the table, the guy was shaking his head in utter amazement at him as he brought a hand to his forehead to presumably wipe the sweat that had gathered there under the reasonable spotlights.

“You’re incredible.”

It was difficult to tell if it had been in complete sarcasm when Peter half whispered half laughed it in his ear, but Wade took it anyway and stole a kiss from him as Harry’s voice occurred around the room over the chatters.

If someone were to ask, he had always thought Gwen was a stuck up and that nothing remotely fun could ever be coming out of that Harry guy. Despite the obvious villain origin phase that Harry was currently in, Wade could admit that he may have judged the book by its wealthy cover since, not only did he partake in some songs, he appeared to be enjoying himself the most out of him and Gwen during their duets. Or it could always have been that she didn’t like Evanescence’s music very much. If Peter had spent the entire time laughing at his friends’ singings, it had been nothing compared to how hysterical he had become when, as they were about to go and call it a night, Wade decided to join two drunk girls for some Spice Girls action. It looked like Peter was about to fall off his chair and pass out from the lack of air. In the same way Wade was unsure if he would ever hear a sound remotely resembling that out of him again, he honestly couldn’t say he had ever seen him laugh this much.

Harry and Gwen must have enjoyed it somehow too since they went out the four of them again the week after, and many other weeks after that, this time at the same Arcade he had brought Peter to the first night they met. They had almost gotten kicked out of the place a few times over for how loud they would get at every win, which was incredibly frequent in Peter’s case. His super-abilities had made him outrageously good at pretty much every game and were the reason why Wade had quickly proposed teaming up against the other two. As it turned out, Gwen was the most competitive person he had ever met, and her protests at every lost against them were even louder and were on multiple occasion very nearly enough to kick them out with a ban on all of their asses. There was at least two of those nights where she wouldn’t have them leave until Peter lost at least once, and Wade, on those two occasions, had to kick the guy in the shin so they could finally all go home and sleep with their head still attached to their neck.

They had warmed up to Wade enough to the point of Peter wondering if they had taken more of a liking to him than himself.

“Can’t really blame them,” Peter had admitted to him one morning after waking up to a text from Harry asking him for the Merc’s number so he wouldn’t have to go through him anymore. “I never made Gwen almost pee herself, and I’ve known her for years.”

“You’re just not skilled enough.”

Apparently, they had asked for him when he went away for two weeks or so for a nicely priced hit sometime in April. Wade couldn’t remember the last time he had been this unhappy to be away from his shithole, though he couldn’t say it was Peter’s friends that he had missed the most. The late-night phone calls and hilariously suggestive texts had proved not to be enough. He had never bought into the idea of homesickness. That just made no fucking sense, even with some hindsight. But he couldn’t ignore how only fourteen miserable days had him craving for Peter’s detergent scented bedsheets, surprisingly rhythmic snores, and ice-cold toes and fingertips like some clingy little bitch. And his grand return had shown precisely that.

He had banged on the Parkers’ door around dinner time with a sweet tan, his pockets heavier and a beam large enough to hurt his entire face.

“FBI, OPEN UP! We heard there was a lonely fella in need of some good ol’ tenderness in here!”

“Why so loud?” Peter had said as he swung opened the door in grey sweatpants and the _Rent_ t-shirt Wade thought he had lost.

Something, he ignored what, came over him as he may have _unintentionally_ jumped and landed directly into Peter’s arms like the princess only him thought that he was. Perhaps he just loved the fact that it was possible and was continually taking advantage of Peter being able to carry him around everywhere for that fact alone, and not because he was a lazy old fart as Peter liked to claim. He held him with as much ease as if he had weighted not much more than a bag of sugar as he turned around and closed the door with his bare foot. Peter stopped short when he noticed his aunt standing in the kitchen doorframe and staring at them with the confusion of someone witnessing what they previously thought were their lanky and inadequate nephew holding a muscular man quite larger than him without breaking a sweat. For a second, Peter gave the impression that he was about to feign struggling all the sudden, but decided otherwise since that would have been all the more suspicious.

“We practiced a lot,” Wade explained, nuzzling further into the young man’s neck and unwashed hair while May nodded slowly and somewhat unconvincingly.

The house smelled like pasta and delectable sauce, which was great to mask the I’ve-not-shower-in-three-to-five-business-days perfume Peter was sporting. Still, they didn’t stay inside very long. Just enough for Peter to stuff down the rest of his plate and Wade to gush over his aunt’s new and only slightly different hairdo.

Peter put on his mask as Wade climbed up his back, the rest of his suit laying hidden under his bed. The sun was only just starting to set. The mild wind was hitting his face and naked arms around the younger man’s neck, though he wasn’t cold. After a few minutes, Wade could never really tell when they were up there swinging between buildings like it was nobody’s business, Peter’s feet landed on a flat surface. His fingers were immediately there to pull off his mask and put it away inside of his pocket whereas Peter’s hands settled down on the man’s thighs that were wrapped around his middle and ran up and down a few times as though he had known he wouldn’t let go or slide off his back straight away. He turned his face at him, and it looked like he was about to say something, but Wade took advantage of the moment to capture his lips in his, even if he only managed to catch the corner of them.

His palm laid flat across Peter’s face to turn it further toward his, forcing his neck to twist around far enough that his chin was in line with his shoulder. Despite the angle being odd and pretty awkward, and an ache starting to show itself in both of their necks, Wade wouldn’t stop until his body was practically begging for some air and Peter’s warm tongue was the only thing he could feel.

“Thought of you a lot,” Peter breathed out against the other’s mouth.

“Oh, yeah?” Wade slightly leaned away to wriggle his brows at him, his palm still covering part of the other man’s cheek and jaw. “How many times?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Do you have a crush on me or something?”

Peter rolled his eyes and let go of his thighs. Despite that, he kissed him again.

“If you do, you gotta tell me, cause I’m bad at picking up those kinds of things.”

“Dumbass.”

That roof looked like all the other ones he had brought him to before, and it could have very much been the same as one of the others for all he knew. Peter’s idea of a date was to grab some food and sit him on whatever roofs at night to show him the best views he had found on his lone patrols. But Wade didn’t mind. In fact, he was pretty sure that was the exact vision that would be awaiting him if there was ever a chance he was to end up in heaven after this. His feet dangling hundreds of feet in the air beside Peter’s with their mouth full of grease. His stuffed cheeks and broad, dumb-looking smiles as he always spoke way too quickly about the things he had seen and done, and sometimes showed him some of the pictures he had taken. The skyline always looking straight out of one of those New York postcards spreading as far as their eyes could see, and the sunset looming over it gradually turning into moonlight on the boy’s skin. Wade stole him his fair share of kisses up there too, which was always good.

He would have loved for Peter to trust him enough, or to stop being so scared of getting him into another tricky situation, to bring him along on his patrols too. He wanted to be able to protect him, or even simply be there to be able to take the beatings instead while he did his ‘job’. But since Connors and his attack on the school, Peter wouldn’t let him anywhere near his Spider-Man’s duties again. For some probably dumb reason, the guy wasn’t into the idea of him being his human-shield and perhaps _beheader_ on demand. There were some days where Wade wanted to send a visit to Oscorp again so that he could get bitten by some radioactive monkey or whatever shit they still had down there so he could serve for something alongside him and not be yet another potential casualty. Some days where that image of a Peter laying semi-unconscious in that alley wouldn’t leave his mind, and he could still see and feel the blood on his hands and clothes like it was still there.

Luckily, if Wade could even bare to say that, he had been, while unconsciously, smart enough not to have left town a week later because he would have never forgotten himself. He couldn’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t been there, but it sure as hell wouldn’t have been good. Perhaps _they_ would have found him, and Wade would be sitting alone in that doctor office or had been found dead in a ditch before that could happen. He had thought it was like any other Saturday night. Peter had texted him about how quiet and boring it was, and had accepted to pick him up so they could grab something and chill on some random roof like they always did. However, he wouldn’t answer any of his calls and texts that followed.

Wade had waited. Minutes had turned into a full hour without any new sign of life, the Merc’s bad feeling increasing at an alarming state as it went on. Sure, the guy was usually late, but Wade knew when to trust his guts. He hadn’t known where to look, where to start, so it had been a relief sent from the fucking heavens when, after some mindless wandering in the city, Peter’s name appeared on his phone’s screen. A streetlight had turned off the second his steps stopped under it to answer the call.

“Pete? What’s up? What’s going on?”

There was a silence on the other hand. Well, it wasn’t quite that. There was breathing, harsh and audibly painful, as though Peter had been trying to make his best zombie impression.

“Sorry, I think I passed out for a while.”

His speech was deliberately low, but was abnormally droopy, slurred even. Nothing like he would typically sound like after a sleepless night out of bed.

“You alone? Do you know where you are?”

“Yeah, I think so, yeah. I escaped. I – I lost them?” Peter had to spit out something before he could continue. “There’s that Chili’s on the other side of the street. We went there, I think… Tuesday? I’m hiding out in the alley facing it.”

_Shit._

“It was Monday, honey,” Wade had said as he walked out of the streetlight’s shadow. “You stay there, okay? Don’t move, baby, I’m coming.”  

“I don’t think I could anyway,” Peter replied, and fucking chuckled.

“Okay, just don’t hang up.”

He had asked Peter some questions over the phone, just to be sure he didn’t have severe brain damage, but couldn’t recall what had been most of the things he had come up with, though the most important thing was that Peter had known his home address and his aunt’s name, but not specific dates. Wade hated how shaky his hands were even before reaching that alley. For as long as he could remember, he couldn’t think of any moment where he had had to wipe off his palm that many times as he held his gun.

“Is that you?”

Wade squeezed the handle, but for what he could tell, there was no threat.

“I fucking hope so,” he had whispered back into the phone as he slowly and blindly walked further into the dark alley, the bright red letters of the restaurant behind him the only thing helping his sight. After a few more steps, his left foot bumped into something. He hung up and flashed the light toward it. The view made the grip he had on his gun loosen completely and his knees to drop on the dirty ground beside the weak figure.

“So, something happened,” Peter let out in a playful tone, but laughing was the last thing on the older man’s mind, and maybe if Peter had been able to take a sight of himself at that exact moment he would have been feeling the same thing.

While it certainly looked like it, it didn’t seem like Peter was on the verge of death, and the harsh white light from Wade’s phone was making it all the worst to look at. His back was leaning against the brick wall while his legs were stretched out in front of him, his cellphone laying open in his palm at the end of his limp arm. The other one was holding his left shoulder; which, with everything else, Wade took as a sign that it had more than likely been dislocated. He looked straight out of those slasher movies, and Wade thought he might have been stabbed, though Peter assured that he wasn’t. His mask was off, and his right eye wouldn’t open all the way while the rest of his face was covered in nasty bruises and its own blood. The whole thing looked sore, like a piece of fresh meat hanging at the back of a butcher shop, making him hardly recognizable. His suit was ripped off in a lot of places and showed multiple scratches on his skin as if someone had swung multiple knives at him.

Wade usually proud himself on being able to tell when someone had been beaten to a pulp at first glance, but that didn’t make it any better.

“There were those guys. None of them would say anything, but I think I heard one – he had that thick British accent – say to take me alive. Like, they were trying to kidnap me?” Peter explained to him with difficulty. “They were angry I was fighting against it. What did they think was gonna happen… that I wouldn’t try to defend myself? Who wouldn’t? That’s dumb thinking, isn’t it?”

He was trying to keep himself still, and it was easy to figure out why. His back left the wall as he abruptly started coughing, only stopping to spit out a mix of blood and saliva. When he straightened up again, Wade saw his eyes filling up with tears before his blinks became much slower and his head began tilting backward against the wall. He was about to pass out for the second time.

“Shit, shit, shit…”

Wade gently grabbed the side of the young man’s head with both hands before it could hit the bricks behind it. He was holding it as lightly as if he had been to a newborn baby or the most fragile egg in the world, the thought of even be touching his sore skin with his shaky and uncleaned hands distressing. Wade checked if any blood or an actual wound was hiding under his hair, but there was none visible or tangible. Peter’s eyes were watery, far away, and struggling to stay open, but he needed him to be _there_.

“You gotta stay awake, dammit.”

Wade had been blinded by rage many times before in his life and for way less than that. When they canceled _Empty Nest_ , fucking up that knitted bonnet he had been working on for weeks, that time he dropped his unicorn shaped piggy bank on the floor, getting shot in the leg by that fucking hillbilly… but nothing had ever come remotely closed to that. The rage was so overwhelming, so real, too tangible to the point that it felt like it was squeezing him between its arms with the intention to crush his ribs. He could feel his entire body tremble with it and he wondered if he could even pick up Peter without dropping him or hurt him any further, and that enraged him even more. It was difficult, bringing him home, but he managed. The teenager’s breaths were long and coarse but served as a mellow sound of life in Wade’s ears as each puff of air was hitting his neck all the way there.

Maneuvering in the darkness of his apartment, Wade had laid him down on his couch before quickly going over to turn on the light. His stomach churned when he came back, the extent to Peter’s injuries now in perfect sight. Peter was holding his bad shoulder with a grimace, but at least he was awake. Wade kneeled in front of the couch before taking off his damaged gloves and web shooters. His knuckles were raw and slightly more pronounced like his own would look like after they had had a one on one with someone’s face. Peter winced as he then tore the top half of his suit with a knife, and Wade suspected that it had more to do with the ruined piece of clothing than for any sort of pain it may have caused.

“The Amazing Spider-Man will have to go off-service for a little while,” Wade said through gritted teeth as he disregarded the fabric over his shoulder. Peter weakly nodded. “The sequels are gonna have to be postponed.”

That action had revealed a huge black bruise covering most of his right side, over his ribs. A few messy cuts here and there were scattered on his chest beside and crossing over the long, healed scars from the Lizard’s claws that were already decorating it. Peter’s entire upper body flinched away when the tip of Wade’s fingers made light contact with the dark bruise.

“You pulled up a fucking fight, baby,” Wade mentioned, full of pride despite the horror. “How many were there?”

“Four.”

“Only four? Why were those different?” Wade’s eyes wouldn’t stop roaming over the different colors and new marks on his lover’s skin, one hand into a tight fist that he had trouble easing out. “Did they have superpowers up their asses too?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. No flashy costumes.” Peter sighed in pain. “It sure feels like it, though.”

“Do you think you can describe them to me?”

Wade waited for the answer, but when it never came, he looked up from the boy’s ravaged torso only to receive a pleading look from him, silently asking him to have that conversation later. He nodded and stood up from the floor.

“We gotta start with the nastiest.”

He had given Peter his unicorn plush to squeeze and bite into before starting on popping his left shoulder back into its socket. His muffled scream put a sour taste inside of Wade’s mouth, but he knew that had to be done. The stuffed toy had torn in half, the white stuffing now perfectly visible and falling to the floor and looking as though a dog had had way too much fun with it. A bit like Peter, actually.

“Sorry… You loved that thing,” Peter had let out between picking out some of the white fibers from his lips.

Wade didn’t reply and instead kicked the broken plush away with his foot where it emptied more stuffing. Peter’s eyes had filled up with tears, and his face had turned paler under all the bruises while a slight tremor had taken over his body. It was subtle enough that the older man could have missed it if he hadn’t been keeping such a close and constant eye on him. He might have been about to pass out from the pain once more, and Wade cradled his head again and looked closely into those absent brown eyes. So out of it. But then Peter threw up, barely leaving him half a second to move away.

“Oh, God, sorry…”

“It’s okay. That carpet is more puke than carpet anyway.”

Some had gotten on his shoes, but he just took them off. They went flying toward his front door as he went to hold Peter’s neck this time. One hand stayed there to keep his head up while the other one wiped the tears that had gathered around his closed eyes and combed the sweaty hair off his forehead. He planted a kiss there before running to his freezer.

“Keep that on your shoulder,” he told Peter as he pressed one of the two bags of frozen peas he had fetched on his tender joint and put the young man’s hand over it. “I only got them for those kinds of situations.”

Leaving Peter’s smelly mess behind, which his socked feet had to get around, Wade carefully picked him up only to sit him on his bathroom counter.

“You’re a great nurse,” Peter had droopily said in his shoulder on the way there, the corners of his mouth weakly quirking up. “Shame you didn’t get the uniform after all.”

There was a lot of things Wade could have said. Things he had wanted to tell him at the time and probably won’t have the opportunity again. He could remember them clearly. The words he hadn’t spoken out loud but had thought that night and those following after. Silly stuff. _If you died, that would be the end of me…_ _I wish you were invincible so nobody could ever try something like that ever again…_ _I’m so fucking devoted to you that it scares me… I wish it had been me instead of you…_ Something that could have possibly ease Peter’s pain, though he had no idea what it could have been without sounding like a fool.

But instead, unsurprisingly, he had snapped.

“You know what I’m gonna do, sweetheart? Start by ripping off their fucking balls. You always gotta start by that. So then when they’re too busy worrying about the death to their future lineage and the innocent cuddling they’ll have to settle for, you aim for the fucking throat. I don’t think I’ll do that, though. I might make it last for much fucking longer…”

He knew he had kept going like that for a while. He remembered his face quickly turning red in the mirror behind Peter and increasingly hotter as he went on. He had cleaned the blood and vomit off Peter’s face with a wet clothe in the way an art conservator would manipulate a rare painting all while describing in great details the best way to cut off someone head. Had confessed about how much he couldn’t wait to see the color of the insides of the people accountable as he gently ran another clothe over Peter’s chest and its many grazes and cuts. Had talked about twisting their legs together in a big human knot as he had slowly pulled down the lower half of his suit, and the relish he would have upon hearing their bones cracking as he cleaned and bandaged the big gash he found on the young man’s thigh.

Peter was holding the other bag of frozen peas over his right eye whereas the other followed every gentle action of his hands on his body. His face had taken back some of its original color under the nasty bruises, but it wasn’t showing any evident emotion except the occasional grimaces or winces of discomfort as he listened to his tirade. It was only after the Merc mentioned ending it by putting a bullet in each of their head just for the sake of it that he spoke up for the first time since entering the bathroom.

“You shouldn’t start anything with them.”

It was the most lucid Peter had sounded all night, but Wade was already way too pissed, had riled himself up way too much to be glad about that reassuring fact. So, it came out as such.

“Why? You think I’m not good enough for the task? I don’t got enough fucking _abilities_ for your liking? I haven’t gotten fucked by the superpower God yet, but I still know how to take the trashes out!”

“No. It’s because you _can_ that I don’t want you trying something,” Peter replied. His voice was calm, but there was no doubt he was frustrated with him. “You’re completely missing the point.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, sorry, but I’m covered in your fucking blood, and I want those guys’ to replace it!”

Wade violently tossed the third wet clothe to the floor tiles which had long turned a brownish red color and completely unusable just like the other ones.

“It won’t solve anything. Um. You won’t even get any money out of it.”

If Peter thought that would cool him off, he was dead wrong, and he seemed to have known it too even before opening his mouth. His one visible eye that wasn’t hiding behind the improvised ice pack was avoiding his. Wade stepped closer to him, enough so that Peter’s surprisingly spared knees were on each side of his stomach now pushing against the counter, and his silhouette was covering his reflection in the mirror behind him. His hand closed around Peter’s free one, but the latter didn’t move a muscle to acknowledge him, though he met his stare. Peter seemed surprised as if he had expected the man’s eyes to be harder and solely filled with anger. But they both knew he wasn’t the real receiver to his wrath.

“You think I only care about that? Turn around and take a good fucking look at yourself! They hurt you! And it will stop it from happening again! If you were lucky, they were probably about to kill you! Kidnap you, as you said, and torture you until they get whatever the fuck that they wanted!”

At that point, Wade was in the incredibly thin area between talking and yelling. Peter had dropped the cool bag from his face to the counter, exposing again the sore, deep purple and red skin now scattered with droplets. While his eyes didn’t waver from his, he was shaking his head.

“But it probably will! If it’s not those people, it’s gonna be someone else that tries. You can’t kill everyone that do you wrong!” Peter had raised his tone too, knowing it was one of the only possible ways to get something through his thick skull.

Wade had wanted to ask Peter back then what he would have done if he had been him who have found him in that state. Wouldn’t Peter feel the need to hurt the folks who had done that to him if the roles had been reversed? On the other hand, he wouldn’t have wanted Peter to go after them and kill them, so he didn’t ask. _Fucking hypocrite._ Peter was too good, anyway. Wade knew he would have said something about ‘bringing them to justice’ or some other bullshit like that, and he had the right to think and believe that. Perhaps if he had had people like Ben and May raising him, he would feel the same, but he wasn’t. Just like Peter didn’t have the same shitty upbringing as he had.

“No, but I can fucking try.”

Peter’s untouched shoulder sagged to the other one’s level.

“So, you won’t leave it?”

“I’m here right now, aren’t I?”

“And you’re gonna stay?”

Peter sounded very skeptic, doubtful. But it was the sadness, the very slim amount of hope he seemed to have about him staying the night that broke Wade. That he knew the option to leave him soon was something the Merc had very much considered and had planned to do, and it was the last thing he wanted. Wade couldn’t say it was something he had truly wanted either. Nor could ever deny anything to that face.

“I am. I’ll stay,” Wade firmly declared as the younger man’s eyebrows raised high in surprise as though he couldn’t believe just how easily he had ceded. _Yeah, me too, pal._ “But, let’s make a deal.”

Peter had rolled his eyes, and in spite of the annoyance he might have had for him at that moment, there was still a lot of fondness there.

“I don’t go and kindly get rid of your friends, and you lay low for a little while until those are all completely healed. Got it?”

Wade’s hand left Peter’s to hold up his little finger between their two faces.

“You got it, toots!” Peter replied with a wide smile, joining their pinkies. His teeth had some sports of blood on them. “And you won’t, uh – you know – until I’m fine to go out again. Deal?”

“Yeah, fine,” Wade accepted, smirking at the younger man’s enthusiast. He might have been pushing his luck a little, but, again, _that damn face_. “Let’s pretend we’re a couple of sexy hermits that joined a sect for some time. That must be the worst porn plot ever. Or the best, if we really put our minds into it.”

“What makes you think I would wanna get shut in with you? I want separate rooms. I don’t wanna spend my entire convalescence with a mister crankypants.”

“Ouch. You’re burning, baby. You knew I had a temper when you married me.”

Peter snorted. Since Wade didn’t appear to have any desire to free his finger anytime soon and since keeping his arm up was starting to pain him, Peter dropped their hands on his naked leg.

“In your dreams, maybe… Could you maybe stop looking at me like I’m gonna drop dead any minute now? I’ll warn you when I feel it coming.”

“Yeah, yeah...” Then, something happened. Something Wade was still denying even two days ago and would be until his very last breath. His throat had gotten hoarse and his eyes teary, and he didn’t even know why. Well, it wasn’t hard to guess the reason why, but not what had triggered it to happen at that exact moment. He felt betrayed by his own body. “Shit.”

He had started nervously rubbing his eyebrow and the inner corner of his eye with his free hand. He was trying to be all subtle about it, but, of course, subtility had never been his forte, and it hadn’t started then. Plus, Peter, whose face was barely at ten inches away from his, would have had to be blind not to notice.

“Wait, what’s happening? Are you crying?” Peter had asked with uncertainty, momentarily unaware if he was kidding or not.

Wade had tried to get away casually, but, somehow, even a wounded Peter could be stronger than him, _a fact that goes both in the scary and wanking bank_ , since he pulled at his wrist at the last second before his hand could slip away. Peter’s calves made a move to close around the back of his thighs to keep him all the more in place, but they gave up and fell back along the white counter on each side of them pretty quickly.

“No, I’m not! See these? As dry as Kirk Douglas’ asscheeks.”

They looked at each other for five whole seconds where they were pretty much evaluating which one was going to crack first and Wade’s blinks were getting increasingly fast and as violent blinks could get. Though, Wade ended up letting out a drawn-out frustrated groan and bowing his head in defeat.

“I wish I could do something more,” he quietly said as he put back the bag of frozen peas on Peter’s shoulder as it was about to slide off slowly.

Peter knew what he was alluding to exactly.

“I know. But being here, right now, isn’t it enough?”

“I guess,” Wade grudgingly mumbled back. “The least I can do.”

“The least you could’ve done was to leave me back there in that alley.” Peter stopped to clear his throat and look down at himself. “Thank you, by the way.”

“You don’t gotta.”

One good thing that had come out of humiliating himself in front of Peter was the embrace that he pulled him into next. Peter had his arms lazily wrapped around his lower back while Wade’s were enclosing his head and his neck. Wade could feel the side of the younger man’s face against his chest as his own buried itself in his hair, and the grip his fingers had on the back of his shirt. The dry blood, Peter’s, on his shirt probably rubbing on his own face, and the newer, fresher one slowly dripping from his chest and his nose, adding to it on the fabric. Wade closed his itching eyes, trying to ignore it and everything else, but it didn’t work that well. He made sure not to open them again until he knew for sure they weren’t going to betray him the second he did. Mentally squeezing his balls didn’t seem to work with that like he thought it might.

“The mushiest superhero,” Wade chuckled close to the young man’s ear.

“That’s weird. I don’t recall being the one about to cry two seconds ago,” Peter whispered back with a smirk behind his voice.

“Next time I’m leaving your ass back in that alley.”

“Screw you!” Peter laughed, but it was too hard on his side, and the next second, he was abruptly doubling over by the force of it.

“Alright, stop clowning around.”

The Merc stepped away but took the forsaken bag of frozen peas left on the counter to replace one of Peter’s hands with it over his bruised side. Peter mumbled a thank you, for as much as Wade could comprehend, before taking it and pressing it there himself. There was still a lot of bandaging he could do, and craving his bed himself, Wade couldn’t imagine how quickly Peter would have metaphorically jumped on the idea if he were to have suggested it just then.

“Why do you always gotta take it everywhere you fucking go… Argh, fuck it. Put that in your mouth.”

“ _Your_ toothbrush? Is this a proposal?”

Peter only looked hesitant for a hot second before unceremoniously putting the toothbrush inside of his mouth and starting to brush, visibly eager to get the godawful taste of puke and blood out of it. Being a regular to that kind of flavor, the Merc couldn’t blame him.

“You had worst things coming from me in your mouth.” Wade turned around to retrieve some more bandages, which appeared to be just enough time for the other man to find something funny. “What’re you giggling about?”

Some blue toothpaste had already slipped at the corner of his mouth as he sat there holding the ice pack over his side which moved with the rhythm of his light hilarity.

“I hash one four ya.”

“Had what? A toothbrush? Yeah, okay, honey,” the older man replied as he got back to work. He would have to look away from that stupidly adorable face if he wanted the both of them ever to get some fucking rest and for Peter’s body to start its healing process. “Just brush. Up and down.”

“No! I wash gonnah atchoo if ya like Perm! Earlier! Bee-four!” Peter said as the idiot kept brushing.

“How could you ask me that? You know the answer is yes. I can make the appointment for you tomorrow if you want.”

“No!” Peter let out again before impatiently taking the toothbrush off his mouth and spitting in the sink to his right. “I meant– You think you would like Prom? I mean, going to Prom. Mine. It’s getting soon, and I ran out all of my options, so… I thought, you know, I could ask you.”

“Of course, of course, I understand,” Wade nodded, trying not to smile and give him the satisfaction too quickly. He glanced up at the toothpaste running from Peter’s mouth and abandoned that idea straight away. _We really gotta work with that if we miraculously get out of this alive._ “What kind of dress should I wear? Which color’s do you think your tux’s gonna be?”

According to Wade, if Peter had been in a much better state, there was a possibility that he would have escaped the ravish squeal of a teenage girl just then simply judging by his eyes. Perhaps to prevent himself from doing precisely that, Peter set himself a glass of water to rinse out his mouth all while very clearly avoiding to look at him. He spat it out before he said, some joy visible behind the painful-looking skin of his face, “I’m probably going to let May choose for me.”

“Hope so. If not you’re gonna turn up in skinny jeans and one of those stupid t-shirts with those weird thumb holes. Why are they here for? You can’t hold your thumbs on your own?”

“Hey! I thought I already got attacked!” His smile faded into a cringe that had nothing to do with the new wet cloth that Wade was running over the biggest gash on his chest. “She’s gonna freak out.”

“We’re gonna tell her you got mugged. Almost the truth.”

“Everything hurts,” Peter had said once he was finally settling down in Wade’s bed.

Since there was no way he could be putting pressure on either one of his sides, Peter laid on his back while his two palms rested on his stomach over the colorful t-shirt the other man had landed him. The blankets were only covering his legs. He had very sleepily asked a few times if Wade was going to join him, as though he still had some doubts the man wasn’t going to leave, or perhaps he was too knocked out to realize the puke he had made earlier wasn’t going to disappear all by itself. Or it was all the painkillers.

“You’re lucky I’m not making you clean it up yourself. I wouldn’t do that for a lot of guys,” Wade told him as he vigorously scrubbed his carpet. “What did you have? I see bits of fried chicken. Yup, definitely chicken.”

Peter chuckled from his position on the bed. He was trying not to laugh too hard.

“What’s happening? You never find me this funny, usually.”

Peter’s laugh renewed, and it was maybe then, as he mopped vomit off his carpet that Wade realized he wouldn’t mind doing that for the rest of his life. Not the cleaning up vomit part per se, or the bloody wounds for that matter, but simply that he wouldn’t mind being the one doing those things for him, which was quite a scary thought. At least, _that_ , Peter knew now, and the hard plastic band around his finger that had been digging into his palm for the entirety of that doctor appointment was a great reminder of that.

“Scoot over, hero. I’m coming.”

He had laid down next to Peter and settled down in a position that he thought must have resembled that weird-ass Yoko Ono and John Lennon _Rolling Stone_ cover. By trying to find a way to cuddle the guy, he may have gone a bit overboard, but as long as Peter wasn’t wailing in pain and pushing his clingy ass off the bed, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Even though it could be making it worst without the two of them knowing until the next day, he didn’t think he could be sleeping next to a severely wounded Peter without trying to comfort him with the only way he could at that time. Though, Wade couldn’t help his mind wandering back to what he would have done. To fantasize all night about the faces he would have that had way too much fun mangling with his own two hands.

“You got barf on your sleeve,” Peter had drowsily remarked out of nowhere.

“And whose fault is that? Idiot...”

His hand had stayed on Peter’s heart all night just to prove to himself that it was still beating. Was Peter going to be doing the same for him from now on?


	30. Now and Then (Promises)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade thinks back over some of his best memories, as well as some of the promises he made over the last few months (part 2).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for mention of child abuse somewhere in the beginning.

Though Wade had informed her of the situation beforehand, well, as much as he could without mentioning anything about one’s vigilante activities, May’s face upon their arrival in the house had been twisted in shock. Half of it had quickly became hidden under her left hand as she approached the two of them. Peter, who had been hanging on to Wade’s shoulder for God knew how long by that point in the day, had offered the woman a smile, but it was weak, and it did nothing to obscure out the impressive and frankly scary number of bruises on one half of his face. His eye was bloodshot and still wouldn’t open all the way.

Wade remembered being awoken by the bright sunlight shining through his window, warming up the blanket and blinding the life out of him once he had opened his eyes, confused. Peter’s warm and familiar presence was in bed beside him, his left side flushed to him, and, during the two blissful seconds of ignorance that he had, Wade moved his hand laying on the other man’s chest. The frown on Peter’s face became graver in his sleep, but he didn’t wake up or even stirred, as Wade recalled the events from the previous night all at once. Peter was cast in the harsh morning light too, but where would have been pinkish skin was mostly purple and red. The colors could have almost been beautiful under the sun if it weren’t for what they represented.

Wade had called the boy’s aunt while he was still in his pain-killers induced slumber. She had gotten hysterical on the phone at the mention of ‘Peter’ and ‘mugged’ in the same sentence. Wade had spared May a lot of the details, obviously, but had also somewhat lightened up his condition in the process, and that had been a mistake from his part for sure given the reaction the woman had when seeing her nephew. And she hadn’t even seen what had been concealed underneath his clothes yet if she ever did at all.

Peter’s eyes were squinting at the sun and seemed to be searching for him when they opened only ten minutes after Wade had ended the call.

“How is it hanging this morning, Mister Parker? Need some more medical attention from your at-home voluntary nurse?”

Peter unintelligibly grunted in response and rubbed with his fist his one eye that wasn’t puffy. But then he uttered out, a smile to his tone, “you gotta add that to your business card.”

Wade, barefoot, walked his way over to him.

“In risk of you calling me mushy again…” Peter said while trying to sit up on the mattress with some obvious difficulty. The playfulness had already left his tone. “I dreamed it had been you instead of me. They took you away, and I was too late. Couldn’t do anything about it. My web-shooters were stuck. They wouldn’t work properly.”

“You’re right. You can keep your mushy king crown,” Wade replied as he sat on his part of the bed, one leg bent in front of him while the other one hung at the side of it, his foot lightly touching the ground. Peter had sweat a bit throughout the night under the old-ass _Power Rangers_ and _Ninja Turtles_ crossover t-shit and the oversized black joggers that Wade had landed him the night before. While those clothes were covering most of his damaged skin and its injuries, he still very much looked like he could break from a simple look in his direction.

“Yeah, well, what about you? Slept well?”

Wade could recall experiencing that weird feeling where his night of sleep had felt like it had amounted to a single blink. He couldn’t tell exactly when he fell asleep that night. One second his eyes were wide opened in the complete darkness at the sleeping figure next to him, and the next there was bright orange under his eyelids. Wade might have spent the entire night awake for all he knew, picturing the things he had said in the bathroom while his whole body was twitching to get up and leave out the door with some of the weapons that he knew were on his kitchen table. That itch had stayed, though sometimes merely at the back of his mind, throughout the weeks that followed, but he never broke his promise. But while it had technically meant good by Peter, Wade couldn’t help but feel it was the complete opposite. What good was he to let those guys live only to allow them to try that shit again?

“Quite well, see, I had another dream riding the back of that flying giraffe,” Wade lied to lighten up the mood which felt already way too fucking heavy that early in the morning. “Do you think there’s anything to read into that?”

“A oneirocritic would’ve a field day with you.”

“A what now?”

Peter fell silent. He was looking down, preoccupied, with a hand massaging his painful shoulder.

“I have those dreams a lot, you know,” Peter told him, his voice still hoarse from sleep. That dream that he had had was still fresh in both the timeframe and in his mind, and it seemed like he _needed_ to get it out. “When it’s not you, it’s some other person or group of people I can’t remember seeing before or my aunt. But they’re always in danger, and I become– Sometimes it’s my uncle. But it’s not… like it really happened. But it’s the same powerless feeling every time.”

It was the first time Wade had heard about it, and a part of him couldn’t help but want to ask Peter why he had never talked about those dreams, or nightmares, before, but, then again, he, himself, had never told him about the ones he would have about his uncle. They had been less frequent, but they would pop up once in a while, even _now_ a few months later, as though to remind him of his place, of what kind of person he truly was deep down. It was as better of a time as any to tell him, so Wade had reckoned.

“Yeah, uh, never mind,” the younger man chuckled nervously. He had taken Wade’s silence as discomfort from his confession. “Is it still early? I could sleep for a hundred more hours.”

“I have dreams about him too,” Wade admitted. He had to look away from the other man for a few seconds. “In those, I don’t know you and, uh… I’m the one who kills him.”

The silence that followed felt like it lasted forever and was enough to make the Merc starting to feel sweat appearing at the back of his neck. He looked at Peter’s face, but it was unreadable.

“That’s…”

“Fucked up, yeah,” Wade finished for him. “I don’t wanna read into that one.”

“Me neither.” Peter shifted on the mattress with a deep frown creasing his forehead. The hand that had been massaging his shoulder had gotten still as though he had forgotten what he had been doing. “But, why would you have those? You had nothing to do with it.”

“I don’t know, man. Last time I checked, I couldn’t choose what I dream about, and I don’t think you can either,” the older man replied with the hint of a smile. “If so, I would have the visit of a naked Rue McClanahan every night. What about you?”

“Probably Martha Stewart.”

Peter’s laugh didn’t last long. He looked distraught. Surely, Wade should’ve known not to bring that up. _So much for lightening up the mood, dickhead._

“Maybe I shouldn’t have told ya.”

Peter shook his head.

“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just- I don’t understand why you would ever… It’s…”

Wade gave a half shrug. He sincerely didn’t want to dig too much into it. To this day, he still didn’t know if he had made a mistake bringing it up since they never mentioned it again, but, in the long run, it felt good having let it out. However, it didn’t have the cathartic effect Wade thought it might have given that he did have them again after, and Peter would sure have his from time to time as well.

He patted Peter’s knee that was the closest to him over the blanket before getting off the bed.

“I’m making breakfast. You sit here like it’s fucking Mother’s Day.”

“What is it, today?”

“I was feeling waffles.”

An appreciative whoop came out of Peter’s mouth, and Wade smiled as he made his way over to his kitchen. Before getting anything done, he went to throw Peter the same bags of frozen peas as the day before which had spent the night frosting back up. They left for Peter’s house not much later, apprehension apparent on his face the whole time as they were getting ready.

“I’m, uh… I’m gonna go take a nap,” Peter had said once his aunt had taken a good look at him, one hand hovering in front of his half-opened bruised eye. May hadn’t said much right then, probably hadn’t been able to. What Wade apprehended happened; she turned to him for answers. He didn’t want to lie to that poor woman. Even though it was effortless, it didn’t make it feel any less wrong. At least he could try comforting her while doing so, which he didn’t know if that worked out or not.

“Do you need me to…”

“I got it,” Peter replied as he was making his way up the stairs, a hand firmly clutching at the ramp.

As soon as Peter had disappeared upstairs, Wade turned to look at May, and she was still looking directly at him with question marks all over her eyes. All he had said over the phone was that Peter had gotten mugged by some tugs as he had been walking over to his place and that he was hurt. Nothing more, nothing less. When May asked him again then what happened in front of the stairs, Wade answered pretty much the same thing, but it didn’t seem to satisfy her at all. What he feared would also happen did right away; she saw right through him.

“Wade, I know you’re not telling me everything.”

The Merc stayed silent, evaluating his options while trying to keep his demeanor as natural and unfazed as possible. He must have looked like a slept-deprived psycho, anyway, just like the way he felt at that moment.

“ _He_ won’t tell me anything. Always comes back with all of those bruises, expecting me not to notice or ask about it. Would you tell me if something bad is going on with him?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Wade replied before clearing his throat. “Peter’s just… very unlucky, I guess. He’s got a talent for getting into bad situations, we all know that, but it’s not the guy’s fault if he’s a magnet for that sort of things.”

May took a step closer to him. She looked like the desperate mothers he had only seen in movies.

“Wade, tell me. You guys are hanging with a bad crowd? Is that it? You’re in trouble?” May persisted. Her eyes were sad, but it felt like they were digging a hole through his head by how insistent they also were. As brown as Peter’s. It was difficult to keep eyes contact, but Wade tried his best not to waver and offered her a smile he hoped she would take as reassuring.

“No, it’s not that,” Wade kept at it. “It’s just a bad thing that happened. There’s nothing more to it. Just some fu– pricks that saw an opportunity.”

He remembered wanting to tell May that he was going to find _them_ , whoever they were, but he didn’t want to frighten her. Though, she already was without him having revealed anything.

“But I know there’s something more Peter isn’t telling me about.” May sighed then, teary-eyed. “If Ben were here, he would… He would know what to do. He always knew what to do.”

May brought a hand to her mouth. It seemed like she was about to cry, but she didn’t. It took a few seconds before Wade could find something to respond to that. In the meantime, he rubbed her arm, feeling incredibly inept and hoping not to let it show. Wade ended up telling her the first and only truthful statements he had given her that day.

“You’re a good mom. I know Peter thinks so. It’s fine.”

May dried her eyes with her shirt even though no tears had fallen yet.

“Thank you.”

He squeezed her arm. It was warm under his cold hand.

“I’ll take care of him.”

“Thank you,” the woman told him again, and she seemed to believe him.

“You don’t gotta.”

Wade could feel his chest tightening and his breaths getting more difficult at the memory as he silently watched Peter asking questions after questions to the doctor about his death sentence as though there was any way to avoid it. While the two of them hadn’t said it out loud at any point, it was clear to him that, at that precise moment, he had made an unspoken promise to May. One Wade had intended to keep for a long ass time, and he would have to break it. It was paining him. He could feel it somewhere inside of him among all of the cancerous cells chewing him up like a dog bone. What was going to happen to Peter when he was gone? He was supposed to care of him, he told her so, and if he wasn’t there…

The bedroom door had been left ajar, and Peter had already been sound asleep when Wade had slowly pushed it opened all the way. He had gone to sit at the foot of the bed over the covers, his back against the wall covered in photographs, and his knees bent so his legs would go over Peter’s. He had almost left the Parkers’ house while Peter was sleeping that day, and he was still trying not to feel too ashamed about it. Peter wouldn’t have noticed, so that was what he was telling himself at first. It had gotten dark outside by the time Peter awoke. Throughout any of those hours, Wade could have slipped out the window and start his search, but he hadn’t. He knew he wouldn’t have come back for a few days at best. He had no real explanation of why he had gone against his every instinct, and he had been confronted with that question early on, the moment Peter realized, before he even did himself, that he didn’t have any change of clothes.

“You can go and pick some up at your place if you want, you know. I won’t scold you for that,” Peter told him. His voice was surprisingly steady and clear for someone who had been drowsing off for the past hour or so. “Or go out at all. You’re not my prisoner.”

Wade didn’t recollect what time of the day it had been or what movie had been on, but he did recall how cozy he felt laying on that couch. His hands were in Peter’s hair, working on a third poorly done braid. Peter’s back was reclined on his chest as his whole body was practically a deadweight on top of him. He looked fragile as if the smallest of Wade’s movements could snap him in half, making him utterly vulnerable in between his opened legs.

“Leaving the ‘Parkers’ Bed & Breakfast’? No can do. Would break the immersion.”

“You can go. It’s fine.” Peter paused, unsure. Wade continued braiding the same tiny section of his hair. “Isn’t it?”

Peter must have read something in his silence since he then twisted his head around to look at his face and appeared to see in it the exact thing he had expected. What it was, Wade didn’t know. Peter’s face was still paler than usual under the black, purple and red, but his eyes were unwavering as it studied his, and Wade bit his tongue. Both literally and figuratively. He knew himself well enough to tell that the second his ass was out that house, his thirsty wrath would get the better of him, and he would leave on the men hunt he had been fantasizing about since first laying eyes on Peter’s bloody, half-conscious form in that alley. It would be in the guy’s best interest, but he would be breaking his thrust at the same time. Not only the promise he had made and regretted having brought up himself and agreed to back in his bathroom a few days ago, but also the one he had made back on that roof after the whole ordeal with Ben’s murderer and the reveal they had both been keeping secrets to each other about it. He didn’t want to start another fight. Especially not like that one.

What was the most confusing to Wade was that he didn’t want to leave either. It was like he was playing a hard and strenuous game of tug of war with himself; one side consumed by the idea of revenge while the other was desperately holding onto those quiet moments of happiness locked up in here with Peter. A fight between his urge to leave him and the one that wanted to stay in Happiness Island wedged in between Peter’s weight and his comfy-ass couch. In the end, Wade was glad that second more desperate side of him won over the other for a change. He had had more time with Peter because of it. But then again, there was a sharp side to it. He had lost his chance. He hadn’t found any trace of the group responsible for what happened in the months after, which wasn’t technically breaking his part of the deal, and the rest of his days being shorter than a goldfish’s life span, he didn’t want to think about what could happen to Peter.

Peter turned back around, the back of his head leaning on his chest again, and said, “cross-dressing is always an option.”

“Agree to agree.”

As it turned out, Wade didn’t have to pick anything from May’s closet as Peter, despite his many remarks about them, had stolen a bunch of his clothes over time, so finding something that would fit him among all the shit in his wardrobe didn’t represent much of a problem.

Those days were all blurring together in his head, the colors and scarring on Peter’s skin his only indicator of time. It hadn’t been like his stay during Christmas time where Peter had been gone most of the time. May had made sure that Peter would not have to go to school until he was completely fine, to which the teenager had been quick to respond that she and Wade were conspiring behind his back never to let him go outside again. So, it was no surprise when the very next day they had first arrived at the house Peter had taken the opportunity to make himself another suit from the materials that hadn’t been used a few months ago. He would sit crossed legs in the middle of his bedroom floor, swearing made-up words and complaining under his breath about his past design choice.

“Is it too late to change it? What if I put on a black bodysuit from now on, and call it a day? It’s gonna do the same thing.”

“You’re Spider-Man, Pete, not Catwoman. Don’t fuck up your branding. But I’m not against a whip.”

Usually, he would give up after only a few hours, and that first day had started that ritual. Having done barely more than picking up the flashy colored spandex from the bottom of his closet, Peter proclaimed to a drowsy Wade that he was craving some grilled-cheese before limping his way out of the room like a three-year-old who had ingested too much sugar. It was clear that he felt restless already.

“You need crutches,” Wade told him after catching up to him on top of the stairs despite having had a very late start. Peter was bracing himself, one hand on the ramp and studying the set of stairs as though trying to evaluate the best way to get down without plummeting on his already swollen enough face. “You could always climb down with your butt.”

Peter judged his idea terrible enough not to give it any response and step down on the first step. In the second that it took for the teenager’s foot to touch the carpeted wood, Wade made the decision, all of the blue and without any premeditation, to pick him up bridal style. An alarmed shriek escaped out of Peter’s mouth in such a way that suggested that he thought he had inexplicably slipped and was about to fall, or that he was about to die, as he then told Wade.

“I get it now why you love it so much when I carry you,” Peter observed as they were passing through the living-room on their way to the kitchen, Wade’s strong arms still holding him.

“I don’t like it _that_ much,” Wade defended himself, which got him a skeptical snort right into his right ear. “I was destined to be a superhero’s wife,” he later declared over the stove as he flipped Peter’s second grilled-cheese.

They, meaning mostly him as Peter sat close making comments, cooked dinner a numbered amount of time during his stay. It was always really gratifying seeing May’s grateful face when she would come home after work, the whole house smelling of food from the outside. Though Wade could admit the look on her face after catching him rummaging through the fridge at an ungodly hour one night in nothing but his underwear was much more comical. “Why is this strange naked man doing in my fridge at four in the morning,” he could almost hear May thinking, trying to hide behind her back the long baseball bat she had been ready to swing at him a second ago like he wouldn’t notice. While her nephew wasn’t a stranger to midnight snacks, perhaps it had been the glass of water that Wade’s elbow accidentally sent to burst into pieces on the floor, making it vaguely sound like a window was shattered, that had alerted her of potential danger. Peter’s carefully slow and awkward steps on the stairs came next once the light had been turned on and after the both of them had already started to sweep the pieces of translucid glass off the wet floor. He looked deeply confused at the scene in front of him, glancing at the baseball bat laying on the counter and then to his aunt and half-naked boyfriend both equipped with brooms, only to turn back around without uttering a single word.

Wade had always had a very complicated relationship with Peter’s twin bed. The thing was ridiculously too small for the two of them, and it usually meant all the opportunity the better to cuddle up, but not when the guy pretty much had all of his bones trying to settle back to normal and patches of his skin that were as sensitive as nipples in winter. The first time Wade woke up to Peter all curled up in a ball looking like a wounded animal while _he_ was taking up most of the mattress, he offered him the idea that he could sleep on the floor or the couch or in a tent in the backyard instead and give him all of the space.

“We don’t have a backyard,” was the only thing Peter replied, his back and knees audibly cracking as he painfully unfolded like a splintered pretzel.

“Or I could always bunk up with your aunt if that’s better for ya.”

“Watch it!” In whatever state Peter was in, he always seemed well enough to give him a good shove.

Pretty late the next night, Peter nearly tripped over Wade’s legs after he got back from the bathroom with some drying blue toothpaste at the corner of his mouth.

“What are you doing on the ground?”

“What does it look like?”

While Peter had been in the bathroom brushing his teeth, Wade had stolen all of the couch cushions from downstairs, as well as one old looking blanket from one of the cupboards in the house, and had lined them up for them to be perfectly parallel to the bed. It wasn’t that dusty, and he couldn’t feel the floor at all, so it wasn’t that bad. He had had much, much worst to work with, and he had to tell Peter so at least eight to ten times so he would stop objecting and get into his own bed.

“Harry and I used to have sleepovers like that. But I was always the one who had to sleep on the floor,” Peter’s quiet voice came from a higher level at Wade’s right.

The room was pitched in darkness as Wade laid on his back with his arms laying flat over the sheet, staring up at the ceiling and wondering if the other man was doing the same. Peter had to breath from his mouth, and he could hear every single one of his exhales nearly as easily as if he had been laying in bed next to him.

“Oh, yeah? Did you used to play ‘touch the pee-pee’?”

Peter’s covers could be heard briefly yet very snappishly ruffling together.

“You’re disgusting, you know that? Disgusting. If I weren’t so comfy, I would be kicking your ass out of the door.”

“So violent.”

Wade grinned and turned his head to the right, but all that he saw was the darkness below the bed. Squinting heavily, all he could make out were some old schoolbooks from previous years and the corner of a brown briefcase, which were all covered with a layer of dust as well as some heaps of it. His right arm extended toward it, straining to reach it. Only the very tip of his middle finger’s nail managed to touch the briefcase. He gave up and brought his arm back over to his chest with the sense that if he had one of Peter’s web-shooters around his wrist, he would have gotten it even before he could say the word ‘dildo’. He didn’t need to, though. He had recognized it right away, anyhow.

“Pete, why did you stop researching on your dad?” Wade questioned with genuine and acute curiosity. Him forgetting about it was one thing, but Peter was another thing entirely. There was silence coming from Peter, who perhaps had been taken aback. But it was a sleepover, after all. Weren’t you supposed to talk about deep existential shit during those? “You were all about that when we first met, so…”

“Uh, well, that spider biting me and then what happened with my uncle, everything just… derailed stuff.” Peter hesitated as if he had never asked that question to himself before and was finding out the answer at the same time as he spoke. “Everything happened at once, and it escaped out of my head, I guess. I stopped thinking about it completely.” He paused again. “Do you think that’s bad? I mean, what kind of person just forgets about their dead parents?”

“They didn’t hesitate to do that to you, so, why wouldn’t ya?”

“I know, it’s just… I wanted to know where I came from. Why they had to leave. Guess I judged it wasn’t so important anymore.” Peter shifted on the mattress. “What would you do in my situation? Do I let it go for good?”

Wade’s stare was up at the ceiling again and stayed glued there, watching the millions of tiny grey grains composing his vision. Perhaps being in that position had pushed him to engage in pillow talk he wouldn’t have typically set off and would usually avoid. Dead parents weren’t the most agreeable subject to chat on about right before falling asleep, for Peter’s sake, anyway. Was it laying in the dark like that, with no way to look or touch the other, that was getting into his head, convincing him that his words didn’t weigh anything and they were all going to be forgotten the next morning as if they had been pronounced in a mildly disconcerting dream? He wondered if there was real science behind it, but there were other things he wanted to ask Peter before that.

“All they gave you are your good looks and your daddy issues.” _So, yeah, they can rot_ , Wade thought to himself. _No, yeah, definitely not saying that. That must be crossing some kind of fucked up line that they abandoned him or not._ “So, yeah, I wouldn’t bother. Unless you tell me your daddy was like mine and left you with more than what your tiny innocent child’s brain bargained for before deserting your ass.”

There was a beat before Peter spoke again.

“You mean… like he used to beat you?”

“I mean it like he did more to it than just desert it. The guy was a real pain in the ass if you catch my drift.”

The bed creaked, but the silence was louder. Wade felt raw all of a sudden. Like he had just pulled off a layer of his skin and then went bathing in vinegar, and he wanted it to stop, though, it seemed impossible to shake off right away, which would generally work. It was weird; knowing that words that had come out of his mouth had unexpectedly and momentarily brought back an uneasiness he had been avoiding for years. He wasn’t used to it. It surprised him so much that his brain seemed empty for anything to comment or laugh about. So, Wade laid there, eyes up at the ceiling and his face twisted in discomfort, waiting in the dark for Peter to say something instead.

It took a while before he heard anything from him. Wade thought, hoped, for a second that there was a chance Peter had fallen asleep the second his last sentence had been out of his mouth. Despite it being slightly offending to him, he would have much rather that. Wade was starting to believe more into the idea that he might have gone too far for a bit there, scared that Peter wasn’t saying anything due to his disgust toward him for joking about something like that, which he had never shy away from doing before, just never to him. Someone that, for some reason, cared about him. Would it had been the other way around, he knew just how bunkers he would have gotten hearing something of that sort coming from him. So, maybe it was why it felt so different this time, that it always felt different with Peter, and had been why he had subconsciously never let anything remotely relating to that _tiny little_ _detail_ of his past slipping out of his mouth in the man’s presence. Peter always threated and reacted to the heavy shit he would throw at him as precisely that, _heavy fucking shit_ , and that was the last thing Wade personally wanted to do. Only the thought of it was enough to give him inside hives.

When Peter did speak, his voice was small and noticeably shaky.

“That’s horrible.”

“Oh, so we have less in common than I thought?” Wade laughed, but it was strangled, and there wasn’t any trace of confidence in it.

Peter didn’t respond, but the bed creaked louder underneath his weight. Wade saw at the corner of his right eye a considerable portion of the other man’s red and white comforter being pushed and falling off the mattress halfway. Wade leaned on his elbows and looked over to him. The outline of Peter’s body was sitting up, and if his breathing had been loud before, now it sounded like something was snatching the air out of him. Not unlike when he would wake up from one of his nightmares, of which Wade had learned the specifics of not so long ago.

“Alright over there? Is it your side?”

“Yeah, no, no, it’s, uh, it’s fine,” Peter panted, one hand massaging his chest. “I just f- I just feel a little nauseous.”

“Oh.” Wade fell back on his cushion. He listened in silence for another minute or so, before deciding to let out, “your sleepovers sucks ass, Pete. I thought we were supposed to gossip and talk about boys. I’m pretty sure I was promised nail polish too.”

In the darkness of the room, his eyes followed Peter slowly getting off his bed and picking up the big puffy blanket before it was about to touch the ground, the boy’s head becoming the only visible part of his body after rolling himself up in it. It only dragged on the floor for the three or four steps that it took for him to make his way over to Wade’s left where he lowered himself down, half onto the couch cushions and the other half on top of Wade and the old sheet already covering his body.

“I never liked them,” Peter quietly replied, his breath, almost back to being even now, hitting the older man’s neck. Wade’s left arm was crushed underneath his weight, and he moved it slightly upward so it would be better wrapped around his back, or what he thought might be it, the comforter puffing down under his hand. All he could see of Peter was his hair, but he could feel the entire right side of his face against his neck and the underside of his jaw, and, so briefly that he could have missed it, his lips brushing the skin there with a purpose behind it. Although Wade didn’t have a shirt nor any pants on, it felt like the room’s temperature had gone up a few degrees. It might have only been the blanket and Peter’s body being added on top of him, but judging by the warmth spreading inside of him, deep underneath his skin, like a warm liquid drowning out the nasty uneasiness, Wade leaned more into the possibility that it could have been more than just that.

“A part of me still wants them to come back. I think that’s why I was into finding out more stuff about my dad in the first place,” Peter whispered, and Wade escaped a sigh of relief. He was glad that Peter chose to bring the subject back to that. It was as if knew, and he more than likely did. Knew that proximity was the thing he needed over pity words disguised as ones of comfort, and proving him in the same vein that he wasn’t feeling any disgust toward him. Or if there was, he was incredibly good at hiding it. That he was disgusted by his words, that he could take. Manageable. Happened often. But of him? That Wade couldn’t bare.

It clicked in his head right then, perhaps stupidly late, but better later than never. That night, Wade was amazed to realize that there was no other human being in that whole miserable fucking world that knew him better than that guy right there, and, more significantly, that it didn’t scare him like he thought it would or like other similar realization of his had done in the past.

“Knowing why they left won’t bring them back, sweetheart.”

“I know.”

Peter’s nose grazed his Adam’s apple. Wade could also feel his left arm and hand laying flat on his bare chest through the fabric barrier separating them.

“You should talk to your aunt.”

“Talk to her about what?”

“She knows you’re keeping stuff from her. She’s fucking smart. Only a matter of time until she figures it out. I think that time you did that classic gag with the laundry was a big giver. I stole one of your tighty-whities turned pinky-whities, by the way.”

“She talked to you about that?” Peter asked even though he didn’t sound surprised at all. Not even by the underwear revelation.

“Yeah, well… In addition to being an incredible nurse, I’m also a crazy good confidant.”

“It’s the cut eyebrow. It just immediately speaks trust.” Wade snorted in response. Peter’s voice then got even lower, as though there suddenly was a way for May to hear them. “You think I should tell her? Me being Spider-Man?”

“I don’t know about _that_ , but you could always tell her you got someone you want her to meet, and then come out in full suit with some balloons. I could do a pretty good banner for the occasion.”

“Oh, God…” the young man muttered. “She would start smothering me harder than you. I would never be allowed out of this house ever again.”

“She’s your fucking aunt, and I’m your boo. Of course, we gotta be a bit overprotective, you ungrateful asswipe.”

Wade could feel the other man’s broad smile against his skin and tried to conceal his as not to give him the satisfaction.

“Yeah, sorry, boo. You’re right.”

“Blow me, Peter,” he retorted, and Peter chuckled. When it died down, Wade pushed his left hand further into the comforter and squeezed it between his fist, but it was still impossible to get a grip of the boy’s back. “Just don’t push the woman away. She got it fucking rough, too.”

“Yeah, I know,” Peter sighed back.

“But who am I to give family advice? You shouldn’t listen to me,” Wade snorted, yet his face hardened. “I would burn the son of a bitch alive if I could and drink a fucking martini on his ashes.”

“I would be there pouring the drink.”

Wade didn’t spend the night on the ground again throughout the rest of his stay, but Peter had defeated the whole purpose of it right away, anyway. Though Wade did, despite believing the contrary would happen and without even trying a little bit, fall asleep on Peter’s bedroom floor a lot during the day. Especially during those times when he would sit down in front of a very focused and frustrated Peter as he worked on his new suit. His eyes would close by themselves while his head would fall progressively backward on the bed behind him, and his mouth would open like a whale catching some fishes in the sea.

“Being a full-time nurse while also being the only entertainer in the room is fucking hard,” Wade had groggily explained one time as Peter was up and kicking his leg one of those days. His headaches were minor inconveniences back then.

One afternoon, he had awoken to a wet sensation on his face as if someone was applying something to it. When he opened his eyes, Gwen Stacy of all people was laughing two inches away from his face. She quickly hid something behind her back and went to sit further away as Wade’s head snapped up.

“I gotta be honest, Pete. I don’t like the blonde on you.”

He blinked a few times. Peter was there, sitting on the floor not too far away from his feet. There wasn’t any trace of the red and blue pieces of fabric he seemed to always have between his hands in the last four days or so. His bruised eye had almost already fully healed at that point, abnormally so, but it was still impossible not to notice there was something wrong with him. Harry was sitting to Peter’s right whereas Gwen was at his left putting a tub of lipstick inside of a small baby blue kit. While Wade had no recollection of the exact time he had dozed off, he thought he would have remembered if the two teenagers had been in the room with them.

They were all staring at Wade’s face and giggling like complete dumbasses.

“Why do my fucking lips taste like pink?” Wade inquired. Something clicked inside of his sluggish brain. “Hope y’all made me prettier.”

“So, _so_ pretty!” Harry sniggered as he tossed a black marker to him. It smacked Wade in the middle of the chest.

Wade made his way to the bathroom mirror, laughter following after him. There were a few long black lines above his eyes and going over his eyebrows that made it look like he had outlandish eyelashes. His lips had been impeccably drawn with pink lipstick whereas his cheeks had been densely layered with red powder. Some lines of black markers were cutting through as though to give him cartoonish cheekbones, and others were lining far around where his real mouth was. Though, what his eyes noticed first was the word ‘CALLGIRL’ plastered on his forehead in large and messy black letters.

“You fucking shitheads!” Wade yelled out to the hallway. “All of this, and not one single dick? I’m disappointed in you, kids.” The laughing renewed.

Peter’s head appeared in the doorway. His hands were grabbing onto the doorframe, but he didn’t step inside the room.

“No, there’s one on your neck. See?”

Wade lifted his chin and nodded, appreciative.

“Mmmh, nice. Very nice. I didn’t know you were this good at portraiture, Pete. If I did, I would’ve asked you to draw my dick a long time ago, but I gotta say I'm fucking impressed, here.”

“Yeah, I even got your weird wrinkles,” Peter replied with a straight face while fighting off a smile. Wade’s hand raised to grab him, but it wasn’t quick enough, and he had already sprinted off. Peter was much slower than he usually was, though, and it was easy enough to catch up to him before he could enter his room again and join his two friends. Wade grabbed him by the back of his jeans and pulled, pinning Peter’s back against his chest, and gently took hold of his hips so he couldn’t escape when he started transferring pink lipstick all over his face until there wasn’t so much on his lips anymore. At first, Gwen was quite saddened to see that Wade had already taken off the fruit of her labor until she took a look at Peter’s face and rolled her eyes just like Harry had already done. He only washed off the rest of his face by May’s numerous requests during dinner that night, the two teenagers joining them nearly choking on their food every time she would remark on it.

On another afternoon, he had opened his eyes to Peter’s emotionless face hovering above his like some crazy stalker. Wade’s ass hurt from the hard floor underneath it, and his neck seemed permanently stuck in the same painful position, whereas Peter looked perfectly comfortable laying on his front on his bed. The young man’s arms were crossed and touching the top of Wade’s head and crushing some of his short hair. Wade didn’t move, and met the other’s stare upside-down, frowning.

“We already had our spidey kiss moment, and I’m pretty sure that means we can’t do it again. We’re not selling-out, Pete…”

Wade was interrupted by Peter’s tongue making contact with the entire left side of his face. His eyes closed by reflex while his face cringed up for few seconds. When he opened them again, Peter was lightly smacking his lips together as though he was tasting a good wine, and still wasn’t saying anything yet.

“You’re a freak, Parker, and that’s me talking.”

“Mmmh…” Peter let out, finally. “I’m getting a lot of salt, existential dread, and some – Mmmh, yeah – repressed rage.”

“The only repressed things about me, baby, are my balls in those goddamn pants,” Wade retorted. “Maybe you could free them up and lemme see more of that freaky side of yours…”

He was about to lift his head toward the other man’s, and his lips pursed up ever so slightly.

“May said dinner’s ready.”

Peter got off the bed with a few strenuous grunts and went to walk out of the room.

“Where are you going? I’m right here!” Wade called after him.

On one luckier morning, Peter and his raging teenage hormones awoke him. Wade could tell it was very early only judging by the soft sunlight coming through Peter’s window. Excluding the light creaks of the bed, the entire house was quiet, and something was telling him that May had already left. Surely Peter wouldn’t have been climbing on top of him the way he was if she hadn’t. It was during that first week, where Peter still had some trouble getting around, and everything had yet to stop hurting, even though he did a terrible job at hiding it.

Peter’s mouth had gone to Wade’s jaw and neck. Keeping his eyes shut, Wade stirred underneath him and whispered, “good morning, early bird. Tryna get some worm?” He felt Peter smiling against his stubble.

Wade didn’t know where to put his hands. He wasn’t able to see most of the younger man’s skin under the grey long-sleeved t-shirt he had on, but they both knew what was under it and that there was no way he could be touching it. His palms went for the naked thighs around his hips. They were sporting some green and yellow bruises, at this point looking as though he had unluckily knocked a few times into a table a week prior. Without squeezing like he wanted to, he ran his palms over them until they could go straight for his erection over his boxers. Peter’s breath caught in his throat for another reason entirely. His back had arched forward, and it quickly became apparent that that impulse had caused pain to shoot right to both his injured shoulder and side.

“Ow, ow, ow! Nope,” Peter let out and fell back on the bed, his voice constricted and his fingers clutching at his shoulder. Wade moved to lay on his right side to give him more space on the small mattress.

Fast, arduous breaths were coming out of Peter’s mouth. Wade waited, leaning on his right elbow, so his upper body would be slightly up. After a full minute, both of his hands went to cover his face, which Wade at first took as a response to the pain, but it didn’t very long for him to realize that it was out of frustration, given the quite endearing and muffled grunts he kept letting out. They sounded just like the ones that would come out of his mouth moments before throwing at the other side of the room in defeat the piece of his suit he had more than likely been working on for hours. Or the ones while working on a particularly tough homework Harry or Gwen had brought him during one of their visits, or on an unresponsive piece of tech supposed to go inside of his web-shooter.

“Alright?”

Peter nodded but stayed exactly the way he was. His breathing had become easier for what Wade could tell, though his whole body looked and felt tense against his. His chest had started moving heavenly, but then, one intake of breath would sometimes be curter than the others. Wade ignored his desire to ease it out, knowing that the only thing it would do was messing up his bandages, to instead take hold of his fingers and forced them away from his face.

“You want it that fucking bad, uh?” he smiled down at Peter. The latter didn’t return it.

“Forget it. Just… forget about it,” Peter sighed petulantly.

Wade gently picked Peter’s eye dirt and flicked it off his finger.

“Why? It hurts, right?”

“Yeah. That’s the problem, Wade.”

“I can’t help with that! Let the nurse do his fucking job!” Wade replied. He moved his left hand between the two of them until it was touching Peter over his boxers again. “Oh, I see what the problem is. It fits right into the palm of my hand! Lemme take care of _that_ for ya, dear patient.”

“Where did you get your license from?”

“Hollywood Upstairs Medical College. Where do you think I learned all of this stuff?”

“You’re an idiot.”

Just as Wade’s hand slipped through the elastic band of his underwear, Peter had wrapped his own around the side of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. It got deeper and deeper as he kept pushing his head down.

“Why is your morning breath always better than mine?”

Peter didn’t grant him an answer, probably due to him increasing the pace of his wrist, which was proven right barely a minute later when Peter ever so slightly bucking into his hand. Without pulling his mouth away from his, Wade repositioned himself so he would be kneeling in between his legs. The blanket was slowly sliding off his back as his free hand pulled Peter’s boxers down to the middle of his thighs.

“Just don’t move, okay? Think you can do that?”

“Mmm-hmm…” Peter replied against his lips.

Wade pulled away and shuffled down on his knee, dragging the blanket with him.

“If my treatment’s too intense for you, just ‘pineapple’ at me. Or kick me in the head, that might also do it.”

He pulled the blanket over his head and, soon, took him into his mouth. His left hand stayed on Peter’s belly the whole time to check if he wasn’t moving his upper body too much, which he wasn’t. Wade remembered having a brief moment of Deja Vue back then. Back to that first time on his couch with the muffled sound of Peter’s sighs and of whichever _Leprechaun_ installment they were at, and the tremor of his fingers due to the uncharted territories he had just crossed between them at that moment. Both times Wade hadn’t been able to see much, and the heath of the blanket over his head had become overbearing and the act of breathing quite tricky, though he could reckon he had had way more practiced for that second time around. It felt like he knew Peter’s body better than his own. Wade could feel it underneath his fingertips without him even being there. Could taste him on his tongue without having had the chance to kiss him in days. Like he could have recognized his smell in the middle of one of those candle stores.

His mind was preoccupied throughout the whole celebratory dinner May had organized at some restaurant for Peter’s recovery and as well as for him, Harry and Gwen’s acceptance letters for University. It was all Wade could think about. Despite having slept beside him and lived in close proximity to him for the last two weeks, he felt like a person on a no-sugar diet being cruelly waggled a fat, juicy donut with the sprinkles on it and everything under their nose. It was fucking ridiculous. Never would he ever admit he had been riled up by Peter’s putting broccolis into his mouth, but he was, and for the first, and maybe not the last, time in his life, Wade wished he was a fork. You would think he had a vibrator up his ass judging by the reaction he would have at every brush of Peter’s elbow against his own or every accidental knock of his knee against his leg under the table. While Harry and Gwen were chatting up about their lives to May, all that Wade could focus on was Peter’s face, bare arms, and the little bit of skin revealed by the collar of his t-shirt, and how _intact_ it had all gotten. His eye was no longer bloodshot, no more bruises, some of the deeper cuts had turned into thin white lines barely noticeable, and Peter could even swing his arms as if he was a fucking hummingbird and his shoulder was never injured.

The real celebration started, according to Wade, the moment Peter announced that the two of them had planned to go to his place that night, which he hadn’t mentioned to him beforehand. And it showed since when Harry, as any capable adult human would have noticed, made an ambiguous comment to the news, Wade didn’t have anything more intelligent to respond other than pure gibberish and had to avoid looking in May’s direction throughout the rest of the time they had left in the restaurant.

“You don’t have your toothbrush!” May had let out right before she was about to leave into her taxi. Her hand had gone still on the door handle as though that was a grave enough problem for her to drop everything.

“No, it’s fine. Wade got one,” Peter had replied with a little shrug.

Harry and Gwen had already gone in their own taxi, and they were left alone in the dark. The streetlight they had been standing under for a while as they watched Peter’s friends and aunt leaving had suddenly lit up with all of the other ones on the same street. The yellowish light was casting a weird shadow on the 18 years old’s face and was giving him a dark beard when he turned to him with excitement in his eyes.

“Hey, I wanna show you something!”

Wade was so riled up by that point in the night that, for a full second, when Peter pulled out his web-shooters from his jeans pocket, he was convinced that they were a weird kind of sex toy.

“You still don’t wanna use them in the sack, I presume?” Wade asked just to be sure that there wasn’t any way he could have been right after all.

“No,” Peter sighed, his eyes briefly rolling in their socket.

“I’m ready. Right here, baby, I’m yours. One more word and my pants are off.”

“You…” Peter was interrupted by the sound of Wade untying his belt buckle. Peter promptly stopped the man’s movement, lightly chuckling as he looked around for any spectator. Except for some cars rolling by, there was nobody to be seen. “You gotta wait! I wanted to use them first. It’s been so long!”

“Use them?” The Merc knew it was only a matter of time before Peter would want to go out and do risky shit, but he hadn’t expected it to be this soon. “As your very qualified nurse, I don’t think that’s safe. I mean… are you sure your shoulder can take it? Your side?”

Peter didn’t respond and took his hand in his. His knuckles were no longer missing some chunk of skin, though his hands were a bit calloused, although not as heavily as his own. He guided it to cover the exact spot, over his ribs, where there had been dark shades of black and purple only a couple of days ago. Even with the knowledge that it had, at a quick rate at that, changed and disappeared by now, Wade flinched anyway at the first contact of his palm on it. He had seen every stage of it, but he couldn’t help the grimace that was plastered on his face as Peter pressed both of their hands _hard_ against it. Harder and with way more force than Wade would ever think to use on him.

“It’s fine. I can’t feel anything anymore,” Peter assured.

Peter then guided the same hand over to his shoulder where he squeezed.

“Ow!”

“Shit!” Wade exclaimed and flinched again just as though he had been stung. Peter was laughing at the success of his prank. “Fucking… bitch!”

Peter’s hand wouldn’t budge and was still covering his own over his shoulder, though he seemed too occupied in his hilarity to be demonstrating anything.

“It’s all good. It’s been for a few days.”

“If someone could see us right now.”

Peter nodded in agreement, smiling, and let him go. Sending him a few glances of expectation, he then fastened the web-shooters around both of his wrists.

“Okay, fine,” Wade conceded. He couldn’t even pretend to his own damn self that he was practically shaking like a middle-school girl in front of her favorite boyband member at the opportunity to be pressed against all over Peter’s back for an undetermined amount of time, and he was usually pretty good at lying to himself. “But I’m telling ya right now. If you drop me, you’ll have a very pissed off ghost haunting your fine ass.”

Wade was rather proud of himself to say that there was barely a trace of a grimace on his face when it was time to climb on the smaller man’s back. His arms wrapped themselves around his neck and his legs around his middle, whereas his chin propped itself on one of his shoulders. He heaved out a sigh.

“It’s like riding a bicycle!” he said into Peter’s ear as the latter was about to climb a brick wall, implying both the use of his powers and his piggyback rider skills.

They had barely reached the middle of the building’s height before Wade couldn’t contain himself anymore and started giving wet kisses to the skin right behind Peter’s ear, half of his face buried in his hair. He had to close his eyes as to not blind himself with it.

“What are you doing- stop! I’m gonna drop you, and it’s all gonna be your own damn fault!” Peter warned him, though his tone was light as if he wasn’t that adamant into him stopping. Besides, he had done way worse thing that could have distracted him in the past, and none had successfully led to their death.

The building wasn’t that high, but once on the roof of it, Peter didn’t waste any time to send the first web toward the nearest one. Wade opened his eyes just as they were sawing above a telephone booth and already, Wade was dumbfounded to find out, a street full of cars. Peter was leading them higher and higher as they got nearer to downtown until the endless number of cars’ headlights appeared like slow shooting stars far below their feet.

“WHOO HOO!”

Peter must have missed this a lot.

“Show off,” Wade muttered in his ear, yet smiling.

Although it must have been eight in the afternoon, the air was warm and pleasant on their exposed skin. Despite that, the hairs on Wade’s arms were raised, and a few shivers were running through his body every time he would reflexively hang on tighter onto Peter. He must have gotten the memo somehow or must have guessed that the thing that was pocking him in the back couldn’t have been one of Wade’s knives since he made quite an abrupt turn in the general direction to his apartment. His mouth had long gotten back on his neck by the time they landed at his window and nearly crashed into it. Peter slid it open in one swift move up, and, before Wade could prepare for it or even realize they were there, turned around and boosted him inside only for him to end up landing directly on his ass.

“Oh, my God, it wasn’t on purpose, I swear!” Peter’s feet gracefully landed on the floor beside him. Albeit he looked apologetic, him cackling as he spoke was preventing the other man from taking his words for it. “Sorry, love.”

“Nice try, but you can’t knock out the horny out of this dude,” Wade said, pushing himself off his dusty floor. Back on his feet, Peter drew him into something that could barely be considered a hug. The space between their chests was such a tight fit that the thinnest sheet of paper couldn’t have gotten through it, as they were practically breathing each other’s air. Though it was Peter’s palms on his sore behind that made the hug classification somewhat valid. “You might wanna take my pants off and take a look at my ass to see if there’s anything wrong.”

Wade wriggled his brows. His bare arms had stayed on his sides, but he could tell the hairs on them hadn’t gone down yet. The room was pitch-black, yet they were standing so close that he was pretty sure he could see his reflection looking back at him inside of Peter’s brown eyes.

“So, now, _I’m_ the nurse?”

“I think it’s time to accept the fact that we’ve never been very good at roleplays. If you won’t even do Spider-Man, what will you do?”

For a few seconds there it didn’t appear like Peter was even listening to him, too busy unfastening Wade’s belt and undoing the buttons to his jeans. His voice was forcibly deeper than usual and his tone weirdly forced when Peter then said, “lemme see – uh – show what’s wrong to your… No, no, see, I just can’t.”

Wade’s pants didn’t get down past his hips as Peter shook his head and busted out laughing at the deplorable effort he made.

“Okay. I see you’re still in need of some training.”

His pants were slowly sliding down as Wade then picked Peter up by the back of his thighs and blindly carried him over to the bed. He didn’t bother turning on the light. The whole apartment was cast in darkness, and but for what he could tell, everything was in the same place he had left them. It was so quiet, also, that his neighbor’s television could be heard through the wall. The bed was unmade, and he was kind of surprised there wasn’t a wave of dust surging out of the bedspread when Peter’s back hit it. It was cold, though, but it didn’t seem to matter to Peter since he was already squirming on it trying to get out of his skinny jeans. By the end, they were upside-out, taking his underwear with them, and were disregarded together somewhere on the wooden floor with Wade’s; his phone getting propelled out from his pocket by the sound of it.

“I prescribe you an extensive period of gettin’ it on,” Wade said, purposefully letting his voice get way lower than usual, which, to speak the truth, was a much better effect than Peter’s attempt. It granted him a t-shirt being thrown at his head, despite that undisputable fact.

The thin blanket was colder than any blanket had any right to be, but Wade let it slide over most of his legs as he lowered himself in between Peter’s and covered his naked body with his own, his tongue roaming over the junction between his neck and his shoulder. He wrapped his arms all around his back and his middle in some type of horizontal embrace, and only then realized that his entire weight must be crushing Peter.

“You’re good?”

Peter didn’t give him a proper response other than an incomprehensible mumble, and instead grabbed his head in both hands and moved it so he could take his mouth in his, his legs spreading even more perhaps without even realizing it. Wade sank further, his hipbones aligning with his in the perfect amount of pain while his digits dung deeper into his skin. His nape felt like it would have been boiling to the touch and his dick hard enough to knock somebody unconscious. It didn’t take very long for Peter to realize that he still had his top on and for his fingers to then pull at it by the back of his collar. But Wade was so comfortable, warmth enveloping him all over that he thought about ignoring it for a moment. He reluctantly leaned away and took his shirt off nonetheless, which, as he discovered the next day, had landed directly into the only plant in the entire apartment where it more than likely still was months later. Peter’s hands were there caressing over his pecs, and his side before the piece of clothing had even touched the dying leaves, and making him glad that he hadn’t waited.

He wanted to go back to that ease. To that belief of having all the fucking time in the world simply to be. Wade could remember kissing him and holding him in his arms, Peter’s short nails on his scalp, for what felt like half an hour. His lips felt like fire, and the outline of Peter’s mouth had turned red from his stubble. He sat on his heels without breaking it off, Peter following his movements as if they had magnets hidden everywhere under their skin. His arms leisurely unwrapped themselves around him to allow his palms to roam down and stop on the very top of his thighs where he could feel underneath his fingers the lines where his boxers’ elastic had dug into the skin. Peter ended up letting his mouth go before falling back on the mattress, his head half resting on the pillow that must have been cold as hell, allowing Wade to replace his left hand with his mouth.

“I’m already sweating like a cow at the slaughterhouse, and we haven’t even got to the buffet yet.”

“Nice image.”

“Hey, could you-”

Startling the hell out of Wade, Peter shot two webs at his bedside drawer. He knew to recognize that unique sound by now. One to slide it open and the other one to retrieve the precise thing he would have had the time to ask Peter for if he hadn’t been this fucking talented at reading his mind.

“I think you missed my face there,” the Merc remarked, taking the bottle Peter was offering to him.

“Are you gonna remind me of it till the day I die?” Peter retorted as he took the devices off his wrists and carelessly tossed them over to the other bedside table.

“Yes.”

“Then, just kill me now!”

“Sorry, Muffin, but that’s against the nurse code. I think.”

Wade gazed down at the other man, blindly emptying some of the lube into his palm. One of Peter’s arms was hidden under the pillow, revealing his armpit, while the other one laid across his body. The tips of his fingers were lightly grazing and rhythmically tapping the skin right above Wade’s knee as though it was to the beat of a song he was singing in his head. Without a suit to redo from scratch or stupid homework to catch up on to worry about, he looked the most relaxed he had seen him in a while. There was also the reality that not even a few days ago, his body would tense at every sharp movement. For a while, he would get into bed and, as the night went on, progressively get into a ball as though it was the only way his body would let him rest. The fact that he had only let him give him pleasure once and hadn’t made any more advances since that one time hadn’t escaped Wade’s notice. He hadn’t said anything, but perhaps that initial pain hadn’t been worth it.

“For real, are you good?”

“Wade, I just carried you through half the entire city.”

“Sure, but do you think you can take this guy?” Wade pointed down at himself with his slick hand. Peter snorted loudly. “You know the word.”

“Yeah, no, don’t think I’ll use it.”

“And I don’t think I’ll ‘olive’ you either, but you never know. One moment you’re with someone you think loves you, and the next thing, there’s an entire drawer flying at your fac-”

“For God’s sake!”

Grabbing onto the front of the older man’s thighs, Peter abruptly sat up. He leaned his head forward until their forehead hit each other’s with way less force than Wade had anticipated, and pushed against it, his eyes half-shut. His palms ran up his thighs, pushing the hairs there up with it and sending a shiver up to his groin. Wade’s smile was wide, and Peter only ended up kissing some of his teeth. He stopped himself as he was about to run his hand through Peter’s hair, remembering just in time, though it would have been quite the look, about his lubed-up hand. Letting the other’s tongue invade his mouth, Wade slithered that hand between them as subtly as he could manage and wrapped it around the base of the other’s dick before very slowly running it over its underside.

The reaction was immediate, letting Wade believe that he may not have been the only one who had forgotten about it. The air caught in Peter’s throat, but it was only for that first moment, although his body significantly leaned forward into his as though he felt just as touch-starved as he did. His hand was moving at such a leisured pace that Peter’s hips had impulsively started to compensate for it by bucking up into the tight clasp of his fingers.

“Tell me you’re good.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Peter breathed into his mouth, at last giving him the response he needed.

Wade loosened his hold and pushed Peter down onto the mattress so vigorously that he bounced on it. Peter looked surprised, but also like he was having a lot of fun, especially when, the second the back of his head touched the pillow again for good, Wade’s hands grabbed him by the hips and rolling him on his front. He straddled Peter’s legs and let his slick palm follow the curve of his ass, leaving a glistening trail behind it, and kneaded the flesh there for a bit, wishing he could see how the skin would change color under his touch. He then lowered himself until his face was buried in the young man’s hair, his lips brushing the side of his forehead. His eyes closed as he felt his blood rushing down to his groin. There was something about his dick now being perfectly aligned in between Peter’s ass cheeks and the surprisingly intense sensation that it sent him that brought him back to about ten years priors during his actual first time where the contact of another human being’s skin had been enough for him to spill out everywhere like Mentos and sodas. He was luckier this time around.

Wade kissed the side of his lips and pressed his forehead down in between his shoulder blades.

“Still fine?” Wade croaked out, resisting the urge to buck his hips like a complete mad man. It seemed to be moving on its own accord anyway, though not nearly enough to satiate him.

Peter turned his head the other way, his right cheek sinking into the pillow while his eyes searched for him in vain.

“Stop asking. You’ll feel my foot in your face when it’s not.”

“So violent…” Wade replied before biting down where his forehead had been, leaving a wet mark of his dentition. He ran his tongue over it for the sake of it, and did the same to the rest of his back, tracing along his spine down to the curve of his lower back where he bit again. He spread Peter’s legs apart and kneeled in between, all while his left hand was busy feeling the mattress around them for the misplaced lube bottle which had the nerve to be a dark color. After a few deeply frustrating seconds, he felt it hit the back of his hand. Peter caught it before it could roll down to the floor.

“Oh, I’ve missed ya,” Wade sighed, bending forward to give a long peck to one of Peter ass cheeks. “My favorite twins. Did you grieve my absence?”

“I hate it when you start talking to it.”

Ignoring the cold on his hot skin, Wade poured some more shiny liquid into his right hand. “Daddy’s here,” he continued and immediately got a smack to the arm given by Peter’s shin. “Okay, okay, jeez…” Wade smiled.

Wade teased his finger in, wishing for some light since he could barely see where it was going or Peter’s reaction to it, which was just a shame overall. He chose the next best thing and licked his way inside, tasting a lot of the liquid on his finger at the same time. He lowly hummed despite himself, his free hand clutching onto the one Peter had snapped down at the first contact of his warm tongue and his cold finger on his rim, and spreading his ass with it. He hadn’t shaved at all during his stay at the Parkers, so he had to wonder how that must felt for Peter to have his longer stubble on delicate areas of his skin. But then again, he never complained about it and was pretty much pushing up into his face, so Wade didn’t worry about that too much.

He couldn’t hear any sounds coming from Peter, only the shuffling of his face against the pillow and the one from his other hand clenching the bedspread, which was already sporting some tears and holes in it from that exact reason. There was just so many times you could turn it around and pretend they weren’t there. Wade distinctively felt the hairs at the back of his neck raised all at once at the first whine that came of Peter’s mouth and reverberated in the quiet room. As though to reply to it, he grunted and felt the vibration of it on the two fingers alongside his tongue. He pushed them further, trying to get a similar response, and when he did, slowly but surely added a third one in. It didn’t stay there for long, however, given that only a minute later, his aching fingers loosened their grip entirely on the back of Peter’s hand, whereas the ones on his other hand slowly left his warmth.

Wade grabbed Peter’s hips and turned him around again, frustrated that there wasn’t any possible way for him to touch him everywhere at once. He couldn’t see any of Peter’s new scars in the dark, and he was conflicted about it. He wanted to show attention to them, but perhaps it was best not to make Peter think about it right now. He took hold of the back of his thighs and pushed them up until his knees were on both sides of his shoulders, and bit down on his lower belly. His mouth stayed there as Wade pushed his three digits passed the young man’s rim again. He licked around his navel, his chin getting tickled by his pubic hair while moving more vigorously inside of Peter, whose own fingers were shaking and pulling at his short hair. It was on the bridge of being too painful, though he let them follow him as he traveled down to the inside of his thigh and bit harder than the other times, and licked over it, feeling the bumps his teeth had made under his tongue.

The flash of a smile on his face, Wade then took the tip of his dick in between his lips and, lowering down into it, hummed, this time on purpose. Only then did it feel like Peter had taken upon himself to rip every single one of his hair off his head. His eyes filled up with tears, not for the intrusion inside of his mouth but the added hand on his head pretty much doubling the pain and making it a not so pleasurable one anymore.

Pulling at one of Peter’s wrists, he hastily said, his voice much hoarser than he had anticipated, “babe, babe, _olive_ , please. I don’t think I would pull off the ‘missing patches of hair’ look.”

“Ah, shoot, fuck, sorry!” Peter replied and leaned on his elbows, his hands leaving the other man’s head. Wade let out a short sigh of relief. He could hear his fast heartbeat in his burning scalp. Peter was gasping for air and looking down at him in the dark. “Sorry… super-strength… I can’t th- you’re…”     

“Way too good?” Wade grinned and climbed up Peter’s body, who was then forced to drop himself down onto the mattress again. Pulling himself up by his arms, he hovered above him, the sweat covering both of their bellies mixing. Peter brought his fingers to Wade’s hair again. There was still a slight tremor to them, but they weren’t exerting any force.

“You probably would pull it off, though,” Peter observed, caressing and soothing where he had been fiercely tugging moments ago.

“If that’s your thing, you’ll be glad to hear that baldness runs in the family.”

Peter laughed. It must have been among one of the weirdest sentences he had ever said during sex. His lubed-up hand was sticking to the bedspread beside Peter’s neck, the guy’s heels slightly digging into his lower back. Wade leaned down and kissed him, catching the last bit of his laughter into his mouth. His hips were bucking into his and knocking against each other to get the most out of the friction. Peter’s hold on his face was strong, and he didn’t let him go until their lips felt like fire once more.

Wade’s practiced hand reached down, fingers sinking inside of Peter’s heat like they never left in the first place, while Peter was the one to feel around the mattress for the pesky bottle.

“They should invent ones that glow in the dark,” Peter complained.

Wade, who had been squinting down trying to watch his wrist’s motions, the top of his head propped on Peter’s chest, only heard the bottle cap snapping open after he had already found it.

“ _You_ could do that! You would be rich!”

“Yeah, I’ll add that to my list of things to do.”

He poured some of the lube into the palm that Wade was offering to him, but kept the rest.

“I thought my name was the only thing on there,” the Merc said in a conversational tone, thrusting his dripping fingers back inside and resuming his pace. Peter’s body tensed up; his eyes tightly shut.

“You got too cocky, mister,” Peter replied, his voice constricted as if he was gritting his teeth. From what Wade could hear, the breaths coming out through them were fast and irregular. His abs were contracting in itself under Wade’s left palm, but then, all of a sudden something pocked him on the head to catch his attention.

“Wade.”

“Mmmh?”

“Come over here.”

Wade made his way up the bed again just like he did a few moments prior with his arms framing the boy’s neck and his right hand staining his bedspread some more. Peter was looking up at him. Some strands of his hair were sticking to his sweaty forehead and his temples, and as Wade was about to rectify that fact, something cold and wet made contact with the base of his dick. Peter’s hand had taken upon itself to lube him up as quickly as possible, but, from Wade’s perspective, it felt a lot more like it was trying to make him shoot his load right then.

“Ah, fuck…”

The darkness soon became his worst enemy as Wade guided himself past Peter’s inner walls. He moved slowly, sinking further and further with Peter’s hot puffs of breath hitting the side of his face. He heard him whispering. It sounded like an unpremeditated sigh, though the words were decipherable anyway. Wade regretted not having said that he loved him back right then, but he had been too busy urging to kiss him while also trying to slip out, vaguely aware of the comforter sinking to the floor in a pitiful heap.

He had to take a breather, but Peter’s relentless mouth and tongue wouldn’t let him have it. It felt like Peter was everywhere at once, engulfing him in his warmth, touching every centimeter of his skin, taking his air… So, why did it feel like _he_ wasn’t? Wade didn’t know if it was just his foggy brain, or the heat, or the overwhelming lust that had built up over a few days, or all of the fucking above making him delirious, but he had to get closer. Being inside of him wasn’t nearly enough. _There’s so much you can actually do without cutting him open and crawling inside of him, Hannibal Creep-ster._ Wade lowered himself onto his elbows, dropping all of his weight on top of him, and wrapped his arms around his back in another embrace, similar to the one before. Peter welcomed him by bringing his arms around his back as well and caressing down his spine, his flexible legs raising far up without any help. His dick was trapped in between their two bodies, but it didn’t seem to matter too much since it was also rubbing against them as Wade started to move.

“Never gonna leave this fucking bed,” he groaned. Peter opened his mouth, perhaps to give him a response, but all that came out was the first of a few drawn-out moans. Wade was able to draw his conclusion nonetheless. _He agrees._ However, Wade wasn’t able to say much else after that and gave up all semblance that he didn’t even have in the first place to let deeply satisfying incomprehensible noises of his own, often muffled by Peter’s glowing skin or lips against his mouth. His hips wouldn’t settle on any rhythm, and, ordinarily, he would have been embarrassed about that, but there wasn’t any place left in his foggy brain for worry anymore. All he could think about was Peter, his fiery touch, delicious whines, and vice-like heat engulfing and submerging him even further and giving him the impression of being whole.

Perhaps it was why it took so long for Wade to notice the loud and persistent knocks on the other side of his wall unquestionably aimed for their attention, and probably wouldn’t have at all if it hadn’t been for Peter trying to stifle a laugh and him wondering why. He then had to force himself to stop moving so he could hear it. Peter had a hand over his mouth, greatly amused, his eyes turned to the wall on their left where someone’s fist was undeniably banging on the other side, and it didn’t seem like they wanted to stop anytime soon. _Good, so do I!_

“Could y’all keep it down, tryna watch some goat porn in here!” Wade had said, making his best impression of the old Texan man he knew lived next door.

Peter’s fucking laugh. He still hadn’t found any way or words to describe it, but it sure as hell had the power to make him feel all type of ways, especially balls deep inside the guy. Wade would miss that fucking sound. Was there any way he could hear it again? It seemed impossible. _Angels will all sound like that anyway, I assume. The devils too, go figures._ He couldn’t imagine how the two of them could act normal once out of that office. He didn’t know that then when he muffled Peter’s laughter inside of his mouth with a kiss, which didn’t matter all that much anyway since he did hear it more than a few times after that night, but still.

By the time Peter pulled away, the knocks had ceased, but it didn’t prevent him from saying in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m fighting the urge to throw a drawer at the wall.”

Only the words were enough to send a wave of electricity down to Wade groin. He could only imagine what the act would do to him, but he had a solid guess as to what.

“Baby, if you do that, it’s done for me,” Wade told him, accompanying his words with a snappish thrust of his hips which had the same effect on both his dick and his sanity as a piece of paper coming in contact with fire.

“Then, I’m gonna have to wait…”

Peter’s hands couldn’t quite reach the other man’s ass, so they settled for his hips instead and forced him to start moving again. Wade was eager to oblige and, for the next minute or so, proceeded to amplify his authentic exclamations as if someone had just turned on a camera inside the room. Peter was quick to notice what he was trying to do, though he didn’t join him since he was too busy continuing to laugh, his hilarity now directed solely at him.

“WOO HOO!” he bellowed, and Peter smiled through a very low groan.

It took him a surprisingly small amount of time for Wade to forget all about his goal to annoy his neighbor as intensely as possible. Though, he was pretty sure he succeeded either way. Peter’s short nails were digging painfully and leaving superficial red marks into his skin. Wade wanted to undraped one arm from the boy’s back, and caress his face, and wipe the damp hair off his even sweatier forehead, but he didn’t and instead let one hand move lower grabbing the flesh of his side while the other did the same to his shoulder blade. He buried his face in Peter’s neck and licked the warm, salty skin there as it vibrated underneath his tongue.

Wade knew he was beginning to lose it the moment he realized his eyes closed and wouldn’t open again. His back arched forward as he kept slamming his hips over and over, the sound of slapping skin surrounding the room and the ones flowing out of Peter’s mouth so close to his ear. He could already feel his stomach contracting and overwhelming warmth exploding down inside of him. As if Peter knew, Wade wouldn’t have put it past him to have memorized the signs by heart by now and studied them, he took his face in his palms and brought his open mouth to his to catch him as he fell. He was kissing his upper lip as Wade tremulously moaned into his chin and emptied himself inside of Peter. It wouldn’t stop, and it was nearly painful, and stars had started to appear under his eyelids, but it was so good that his ears seemed to stop working for a hot second there as well. Thus, Wade had quite the shock when he heard his own voice spitting out words that he had no idea he was letting out in the first place, though it was quite muffled and incomprehensible. Still, he managed to decipher what sounded a lot like some variations of “so good” and Peter’s name. The guy in question didn’t appear surprised in the slightest and was already staring up at Wade’s eyes when he managed to open them again.

Wade gave him one last kiss that, when he drew away from, gave this loud wet sound, and slowly pulled out of him. They both hissed in unison. Peter’s hand instantly went down to touch his dick, but he didn’t have time to do much with it since, in the same beat, it was pushed away and replaced by Wade’s fingers. Wade then moved down along his body, his wrist already in a quick enough pace to give him arthritis later. Peter was leaning on his elbows and was eyeing down at what he was doing, disheveled and desperate looking. Wade brought his mouth lower and caught a taste of himself, causing a jolt deep down inside his belly and his groin, like an aftershock to his climax. A shiver ran through Peter’s body at the wet and familiar contact of his tongue against his sore rim. Two seconds later, Peter was coming, a shout of both surprise and intense pleasure escaping out of his open mouth. Wade milked him for everything that he was worth, catching some of it on his lips just because he could.

Wade lovingly wiped, the best he could in the obscurity, the come off Peter’s stomach, ass and thighs with tissues as he was staring up at the ceiling, catching his breath.

“Again,” Peter said between some pants, and, for a second, Wade thought it might have been his blissed-out brain that made it up.

“Can I declare you discharged, then?”

Peter straddled him to the renewed sound of bashing on the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s going to be a part 3, and let’s just say it got a few events.


End file.
